Life or Death Was All
by Seawillow
Summary: Warnings: Slash, non-explicit. This story deals frankly and realistically with the subjects of male rape and resultant PTSD & their effects on the victim and his friends and family. A trade mission goes very wrong and Apollo must deal with the aftermath.
1. Chapter 1

_I remember not knowing  
what would happen  
when he stopped. Life  
or death was all I thought was  
at stake. Who could have imagined  
this. _

_Frances Driscoll, "Common Expression" from The Rape Poems_

"We're leaving."

Dietra blinked as Apollo strode briskly past their small group without stopping. "Sir?"

"We're leaving! Get your gear and come on!" he barked, never looking back.

Flight Sgt. Cholla gaped as the captain slammed one hand against the door controls and stalked out into the ever-present rain without bothering to pull on his weather gear. The Malandri doorman never budged from his chair.

He looked back at the lieutenant. She shoved his pack into his hands and he caught it reflexively.

"But, we've been sitting here for two full planetary days!" he protested.

"And now we're leaving. You heard the Skipper, Chol. Come on," Dietra said impatiently. She hefted her own pack and Apollo's and chivvied the other pilot ahead of her out the door.

Apollo stopped at the corner of the building and waited. He leaned back against the smooth wall and turned his face to the sky. The rain had lightened to a fine drizzle over the last couple of days. He found himself almost wishing for the driving torrent they'd had to walk through on their way to the trade commission offices on the first day. Apollo glanced back and grimaced slightly when he saw Dietra. He took his pack with a muttered, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she said. She studied him carefully. "Apollo, are you alright?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm good, Dee... No, belay that. I'm angry as all Hades," he spat and started for the Malandri trade commission's small private space port at a brisk pace. Cholla and Dietra hurried along behind him.

"But what about the trade negotiations, Captain?" Cholla huffed out. He wasn't out of shape, but after two yahrens of working out in only the Galactica's standard artificial gravity he was finding it difficult to make the adjustment to trudging about in the slightly higher gravity planet-side, especially in this humidity.

In the back of his mind, Apollo noted the strain in his own muscles as well as a certain tightness in his chest and made a mental note to discuss it with the sergeant in charge of the Warriors' physical training. Maybe they could adjust the artificial gravity and environment levels in the gymnasium, run it on a random sequence during training periods... It bore discussing. Among other things... He choked off that train of thought and realized that he'd waited a beat too long to answer Cholla's question.

He coughed out a rough laugh. "There were no negotiations, Sergeant Cholla. There were never going to be."

They rounded another corner and the space port gatehouse came into view.

Dietra jogged a couple of steps to come abreast with Apollo. "Sir, you were in that conference room for almost forty-eight centars."

"Oh, yes. I'm well aware of that," he said bitterly. "They told me within the first couple of centars that they weren't interested in trading with us."

The space port gates stayed closed when they approached. Apollo ground out a particularly filthy curse in Primary Virgon and pounded roughly enough on the gatehouse door to shake the glass in the window next to it.

"If you already knew..."

"I was waiting for the Malandri to grant us permission to leave," Apollo snapped out. "It took a while."

The Malandri gatekeeper opened the window and stared blankly at the three Warriors.

"If you want us to leave, you'll have to open the gate," Apollo snapped at her - him - it. Whatever.

The Malandri's blue lips smirked at him. "As you wish, Captain Apollo," it chirped sweetly.

Apollo turned away abruptly as the gate slid open.

"Oh, Captain."

He turned back to the gatekeeper and waited impatiently.

"There was a failure in the force fields that keep the mud clear from the landing pads on the end of the field where your shuttle is located. They aren't always reliable during the wet season. We haven't had a chance to clear it."

"Oh, I'll just bet. How long ago did that happen?"

"Just after your arrival, I'm afraid."

Apollo closed his eyes and prayed for patience. "Would you happen to have someone who could help us clear the pad now?"

He glanced significantly at the two Malandri mechanics who lounged under a shelter on the other side of the gate playing something similar to dice.

"I'm sorry, Captain. Today is Trangal Hul. It's a workers' holiday. I'm afraid we're a bit understaffed," the gatekeeper said cheerfully. "If you'll look in the shed just inside the gate, however, you'll find the appropriate tools."

The window slid shut decisively. Across the entrance, one of the mechanics jeered at his opponent and scooped up the dice while the other groaned.

Dietra stared at the closed window in disbelief.

"Now I get why they didn't let us bring our weapons," Chol muttered. "I think the captain would be happy to shoot them."

"No kidding," she answered. "I'm tempted myself."

The two warriors loped through the gate to catch up with Apollo, who was standing in front of the open shed. He glanced back at them, eyes bright with temper, and shoved a pair of long-handled manual shovels into their hands.

"Come on," he growled.

They trudged across the landing pads to the Colonial shuttle. Their pad was apparently the only one affected by the equipment failure. The chest-high embankment that had existed when they were directed to land here had collapsed when the force field failed and apparently more mud had flowed down the slope over the last couple of days. The mud was almost hip deep at the vessel's entrance.

Apollo sighed. "Chol, start clearing that hatch. Dietra, you and I will dig out the thrusters and intakes. I'm not going to worry about the rest of it. I don't care if we scatter mud from here to their imperial gardens."

He gave the shovel an irritable shake and waded into the deeper end of the slimy, stinking muck without waiting for a response.

***************

Dietra glanced up from the controls as Apollo stomped the worst of the mud off of his boots at the shuttle entrance. He allowed the hatch to close and slammed the manual lock into place with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. Cholla held out Apollo's sidearm and holster as he made his way to the front; the captain hesitated for a split-micron and then took them with a stiff-lipped nod. He stopped and strapped the holster on before continuing forward.

"You know, there are clean jumpsuits in the storage compartment," Dietra said as Apollo lowered himself heavily into the pilot's chair next to her.

Apollo looked at her for a moment, only noticing the buff-colored flight-tech's jumpsuits that she and Chol were wearing now that she mentioned it. He glanced down at his own mud and rain soaked uniform and grunted.

"I'm good. I'll change later," he said quietly as he started the pre-flight sequence.

Dietra raised an eyebrow. "You sure, sir? It'll be at least a couple of centars before we can meet up with the Galactica. That uniform can't be comfortable."

"I said, I'm good," he answered sharply.

Dietra glanced over at him just in time to catch the tell-tale tremor as his hand moved from one control to the next. She quickly powered down the thrusters on her side of the control panel and dropped her hands into her lap. Apollo's head shot up as the indicators across the board went dark.

"Now, talk to me, Captain," she challenged with her customary bluntness. "Are you good to fly?"

Apollo sighed and looked her in the eye. "I'm good, lieutenant. I'd tell you if I wasn't."

Dietra studied her commanding officer closely. There was a pinched look around his eyes that she wasn't accustomed to seeing there and a certain pallor around his stiff mouth.

"I'm tired and frustrated, Dee. That's all. I just want to put this stinking planet behind us, alright?"

"Did they offer you anything to eat in there, Apollo?"

He snorted softly. "Why? Did the refreshment cart come while I was away?"

"No, but we had the packs and the ration bars with us in the lobby. Do you mean to tell me you didn't have anything to eat the whole time you were in there?"

He shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

"Hey, Chol!" Dietra called, never taking her eyes off of Apollo. "You're due for a shuttlecraft flight eval, right?"

"No, ma'am," Cholla protested from the passenger compartment. "Took one last secton."

"Your scores were borderline," she said. "Come take another."

"Borderline!?"

Apollo opened his mouth to argue, but Dietra laid a hand softly on his arm.

"You look like all Hades, Skipper. Why don't you sit this one out and let Cholla get his eval out of the way before he looses his wings, eh?"

Apollo looked away and stared at the patterns of the water running down the shuttle's clear tylinium forward shell. The rain had picked up again and he could hear the gentle susuration as it pelted against the little spacecraft. He sighed again, suddenly more weary than angry.

"Alright, Dietra. You win." He started to climb out of the pilot's chair, then hesitated, looking down at Dietra. "Look, Dee, I'd appreciate it if..."

Dietra grinned at him as Cholla squeezed past to take first chair. "What?" she teased softly. "If I didn't mention that the Strike Captain was tired and cranky and needed to be put down for a nap? So what's new about that?"

*****************

After the fifth time the decon chamber cycled through, the deck sergeant put in a call to the Duty Office.

Bojay looked through the viewport. Apollo was seated on the bench that ran along the back of the decontamination chamber. His elbows rested on his knees and his head was bowed. His uniform was still caked with drying mud.

"I didn't know what else to do, sir," the sergeant said. "He's been in there for more than half a centar."

"Did you try waking him up?" the lieutenant asked sarcastically.

"Crewman Tobias and I both tried to get his attention through the intercom. The captain hasn't responded," the man said stiffly. "Neither of us has clearance to override the chamber cycle. Sir."

Bojay blew out a rough breath. "Fine. I'll take care of it."

The deck sergeant turned and left. Tobias followed quickly. Bojay glanced around at a couple of unnamed loiterers who were hanging around the decon chambers with apparently frak-all to do.

"You people got nothing better to do than stand around and gawk at a senior officer?" he barked. The loiterers scattered and Bojay sighed. He overrode the chamber mid-cycle and pulled the door open.

"Apollo."

The man just sat there. Bojay sighed again and stepped into the small chamber. He reached out to shake the captain's shoulder and Apollo's arm shot up in a block that knocked Bojay's hand back against the side wall of the decon chamber.

"Whoa, there, Captain."

The green eyes that met Bojay's were glazed and just a little wild. Apollo blinked at him.

"Boj?"

He sounded confused.

"Yeah. You doing alright?"

Apollo sat up straighter and scrubbed his face with an unsteady hand. "I must have dozed off for a centon," he muttered.

Bojay leaned against the open door. "More like half a centar."

"Half a centar? Lords, I'm supposed to report to Command." Apollo surged to his feet and winced. He swayed for a moment in place and Bojay reached out and caught his arm.

"Dizzy?"

Apollo shook his head. "Just stiff and sore. Teach me to fall asleep sitting up," he grinned weakly.

"Uh-huh." Bojay waited for him to steady and released his arm. He glanced around. "Let's get you out of here, Apollo."

"What?"

"You're spooking the deckhands, Captain," Bojay said firmly. "Let's go."

"Frak." Apollo seemed to shake himself out of the mood he'd been in. "Alright."

Bojay glanced at Apollo from the corner of his eye. "You sure you shouldn't be headed for Life Center?"

"No," Apollo said firmly. "Really, Boj, I'm good. Just worn out from being planet-side."

"Well, you'd better get your space legs back under you, quick. The colonel's gonna be chewing the bulkheads looking for you."

Apollo shook his head. "I've still got a little time. I transmitted my preliminary report en route and sent Dietra and Cholla up ahead so I'd have time to shower and change into a clean uniform."

"No time for a shower now, but you might be able to manage the uniform." Bojay paused at the door to Blue Squadron's ready room but Apollo kept walking. "Hey! Don't you have a spare in your locker?" he asked.

Apollo glanced back at him then continued towards the elevator at the end of the corridor. "I think I'd rather go to my quarters." The elevator doors opened and Apollo stepped inside without a backward glance.

Bojay shook his head.

"Oh, sure," he muttered to himself. "Why change here when you can go all the way home and be really late?"

At least Apollo had been looking and sounding more like himself by the time he'd gotten to the elevators. Bojay glanced at his chronometer. Blue was scheduled to take over the Duty Office in two more centars. Maybe he'd have a little chat with the man's wingman.

*****************

Apollo had to admit, the fresh uniform made a world of difference. He'd been pressed for time, but had managed to change and run over his face and neck, at least, with a damp cloth before sprinting for the Command Center. Colonel Tigh was a bit impatient with him when he exited the elevator, but Apollo knew he'd been cutting it close.

He stifled a groan as he settled back into one of the chairs in the Commander's briefing room. The thick red upholstery felt good after far too many centars spent in the shuttle and in the uncomfortable Malandri seating. He ignored the twinges in his shoulder and lower back and waited for Adama and Tigh to join him.

He was a little surprised to see the Command Council representative, Siress Tinia, entering with them, though he supposed he shouldn't have been. The Council was always interested in the results of the trade missions and Tinia was better suited than most to sit in on the debriefings. She gave him a polite smile as she sat gracefully in one of the seats opposite him.

"Good day, Captain. I hear you've had, well, not exactly a pleasant trip..." she said in a rueful tone.

The comment surprised a small laugh out of him.

"Not exactly pleasant, no, Siress," he said with a polite nod.

His father and Tigh settled themselves into seats closer to the head of the long briefing table. Tinia glanced up and thanked the yeoman who was distributing cups of the strong black Ellidian herbal tea they'd gained on a previous trade mission. Apollo had headed up that mission, as well. It had been much more pleasant, he recalled. The Ellidians were a truly gracious people and had treated their guests with gentle kindness.

The smell of the tea made his stomach churn. He moved the cup a little away from him to escape the steam. A small crescent-shaped film of condensation obscured the grain of the polished wood where the cup had stood. It looked a bit like the misty film that had partially obscured the skylight in the Malandri conference room. Apollo drew a finger through it, then dashed it away with the heel of his hand. He looked up to see Tinia's wide, dark eyes regarding him thoughtfully.

Tigh slid a data pad down the table to Apollo as the yeoman returned with a plate holding the post-Destruction version of a Caprican savory meat and vegetable pie that his mother had always insisted on baking herself despite the fact that their housekeeper had done most of the day-to-day cooking for the busy family. Apollo and Athena had spent school lunch hours carefully dissecting the pies to determine what vegetables their mother was trying to trick them into before eating them. Sometimes she'd put in raisins as well and he'd always traded chores to Athena for her share of those. He'd liked the raisin ones. He doubted that he would recognise any of the vegetables baked into this one.

He looked up at his father. "Are we settling in for the long haul, sir?"

Adama smiled briefly. "Dietra indicated that it had been a while since you were able to eat anything, Apollo. Since it's close to the mid-day meal, I thought we should have something brought in."

"She did, did she?" he said flatly. A flare of slightly irrational anger spiked through the dull haze of Apollo's thoughts and he clung to it like a lifeline. Anger was good. He could work with anger. Anger had gotten him and his team off of Malea and anger would get him through this debriefing.

Anything was better than the drifting fog he'd been walking in since returning to the Galactica.

Tigh's dry voice brought him out of his thoughts. "You have a transcript of Lieutenant Dietra and Flight Sergeant Cholla's debriefing report, Captain."

"Yes, thank you, sir," he answered automatically. He picked up a stylus and used it to scroll quickly through the brief reports to see what else Dietra or Cholla might have _indicated_ while the colonel continued.

"We received your preliminary report, Apollo, and your team's reports tend to concur," Tigh began. The colonel stopped and shook his head. "What a mess."

"That's a word for it," Apollo said grimly.

"We do have a few questions about what went on while you were separated from the rest of your team, Captain," Tigh said.

"I detailed that in my report, sir."

"Detailed? Apollo, you accounted for a forty-eight centar period in three sentences."

Apollo shrugged. "Not that much happened, sir. I went into the conference room with one of the trade officials and his assistants. They seemed to know a bit more about our history than they'd previously indicated and were very uncomplimentary about it. When I tried to break off the negotiations and leave, they insisted that I would have to wait there for clearance for my team to leave the planet. As I said, they seemed determined to make me wait around. A lot. It was all very deliberately petty and insulting."

He stabbed at the pastry in front of him with his fork and ate a bite since it seemed to be expected of him. It tasted like mud. He swallowed against the bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat and forced down another bite.

"You don't mention any particular Malandri names," Tigh commented.

"I spoke to several different... Malandri representatives during the course of our stay." He stumbled a bit over the words but caught himself quickly and bulled through the rest. "They didn't bother to introduce themselves. They did, however, have a lot to say about homeless beggars wandering up with their hands out."

"Oh, dear," Siress Tinia murmured.

"They don't have much concept of charity, Siress. As far as they're concerned, misfortune happens to the weak and the weak deserve what they get," Apollo said bitterly. "They wanted nothing we had to offer in trade and were utterly contemptuous of any attempt to negotiate on an equal level.

"The truth is, sir, I'm not sure I was the best choice for this mission."

"Why not, Apollo?" Adama leaned forward, his expression intent with just a touch of paternal concern in his dark eyes.

"The Malandri didn't much like me, sir," he admitted reluctantly. "It was mutual." He allowed himself a humorless smile. "They felt I lacked the proper attitude of humility."

************

The briefing broke up a few centons later. Apollo stopped in the Command Center long enough to make arrangements for Athena to pick Boxey up from instructional period, to give him a chance to sleep until evening.

Tonight he would pick up his son, treat Boxey to dinner in the Officers' Mess - always a winner with the boy - and get a good night's sleep.

Tomorrow everything could return to normal.

As soon as he hit his own quarters, he went straight to the head and tossed up what little he'd eaten.

************

Boomer looked up briefly from the monitor set into the top of the Duty Office desk when Apollo walked in. He looked again.

"Hi, Apollo. New look?"

Apollo grinned at him and ran a self-conscious hand over his hair. He'd been getting double-takes all morning, but no one had dared say anything until now.

He shrugged.

"It was time for a change," he said.

Boomer leaned back and studied his friend for a moment before nodding.

"Well, it looks good. Different, but good."

He only wished he could say the same for the rest of the man. Four days back and Apollo looked as tired and drawn now as he had when he first returned from Malea and despite his apparent good humor at the moment, it looked like those frown lines between his eyes were on their way to becoming permanent.

Apollo chuckled ruefully.

"It's taking some getting used to," he admitted.

"So, what does Starbuck think?"

Apollo stiffened a bit and a flash of irritation crossed his features.

"I wouldn't know. The lieutenant doesn't sign off on my visits to the ship's barber," he said with some asperity.

"No," Boomer said. "But he generally has an opinion about most things."

"One which I'm sure he'll be sharing with me soon," Apollo muttered.

"He hasn't already? I know he was heading over to your place last night..." He trailed off at the look on Apollo's face. "Oh, come on, Apollo. I know you guys have been trying to keep it low key, but..."

"And since when is my private life the subject of ship's gossip?" Apollo interrupted sharply.

"Gossip? Apollo..."

The captain waved a hand dismissively.

"Never mind, Boomer. I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little irritable today." He settled into his chair and pulled out a data pad. "You remember I said I was going to get with Ondrus and revamp the squadrons' fitness regimen?"

"Yeah, I was curious about that. Something happen to make you nervous back there?"

Boomer was surprised to see the pad in Apollo's hand shake slightly.

"Nervous? No... well, a little," Apollo conceded. "The gravity was heavier than we were used to. All three of us were puffing like ancient steam engines. It did occur to me that if the Malandri had been, um, hostile... We'd have been at a real disadvantage."

"Yeah, I can see that," Boomer nodded. He watched Apollo for a moment longer and his concern ratcheted up a level. "Y'know, Apollo, Bojay mentioned something to Starbuck and me at shift change a few days ago. Nothing official," he said when the captain's head shot up. "Just a friendly conversation. Said you took a little nap in the decon chamber?"

"I was tired," Apollo said with exaggerated patience. "I fell asleep waiting for the cycle to end."

"Apollo, you and I both know those chambers don't automatically repeat. You have to program them for it. What's up, my friend?"

Apollo snorted and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "It's... It's kind of embarrassing, Boomer," he said with a half-hearted chuckle. "Silly."

"Alright."

Boomer cocked his head in a prompting manner and Apollo sighed.

"You know about the mud?"

Boomer grinned lightly. "Yeah, Dietra said that little daggit-queen of a harbormaster made you dig the shuttle out yourselves."

"Yeah," Apollo said, coloring slightly. He shook his head and grimaced. "I was covered in the stuff. You know how I am about that kind of thing, Boomer."

"Yeah, yeah, I do," Boomer teased.

"Anyway, when the first cycle ended... it just didn't seem like enough."

He glanced up and caught Boomer's mildly disbelieving expression.

"There was a lot of mud, Boomer," he protested. "It stank. That means bacteria. There was no telling what was in it."

"Uh-huh." Boomer shook his head and chuckled. "So, you set the chamber to a repeat cycle, but you were over-tired and..."

"Fell asleep," Apollo finished for him. He sighed. "Bojay woke me up, but I was still pretty groggy. Not exactly my most dignified centar."

"Oh, well, you're never dignified," Boomer responded, relaxing a bit. "So I wouldn't worry about that."

"Thanks," Apollo said dryly. "Anyway, back to business. I've got a new training roster worked out. I'd appreciate it if you'd post it."

Boomer took the data pad and glanced over it. "This is in addition to their regular duties? That's not gonna make a lot of people happy."

"I'm not trying to make them happy, Boomer," Apollo said sharply. "Our warriors are doing more and more planet-side and we need to be prepared for it. We can't always rely on pulse cannons and hand lasers. Post it, make sure the other squadron leaders see it. It starts at the beginning of next secton."

*******************

The sharp edge of the table bit into his hip and Apollo sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

_Rough, hard, alien hands pushed at his shoulders, forcing him over and down as he bucked and strained against them, his hips hitting the edge of the table with enough force to bruise the already abused flesh..._

"Apollo!"

His eyes focused on the woman next to him and suddenly his surroundings snapped into place. The noise in the crowded Rejuvenation Center was overwhelming and his knees went weak for a micron. His pulse was racing. He sprawled into the chair beside his sister in a controlled fall, somehow managing to keep his grip on the two bottled drinks from the dispenser.

Athena grinned at him when he slid her drink over to her. "You look like you haven't slept for a secton, brother. Wonder what's kept you up these last few nights?" she teased.

Words had apparently deserted him, so he settled for a dark glower instead and Athena laughed at him.

"I know far more about what goes on than you might think, brother mine," she whispered as she leaned toward him conspiratorially. "Especially with regard to a certain lieutenant."

"I have no idea what you mean." Apollo felt the blush heating his face and blessed his darker complexion. Not that it helped with his sister; she was laughing harder now.

He craned his neck to see around the group at the next table and caught sight of his son. Boxey and two other boys were gathered in one corner engrossed with some game spread out on the floor between them.

"Who've we got this time?" he asked.

"Um, that's Milo and Beli, I think," Athena said. "Beli's mother is already here, we're just waiting for Milo's dad."

"I thought he didn't like Milo?" Apollo shied away from his son's actual words about the other boy. Surely hatred was too strong an emotion for a seven-yahren-old.

"That was last secton. Now they're friends. Oh, and don't ask about Dillon," Athena warned. "They had a huge fight while you were gone. They're 'worst enemies' now. Boxey's words."

Apollo shook his head and stretched his arms out across the table to ease the tightness in his shoulders. He yawned as some of the tension released.

"I think I need keep a scorecard."

Athena chuckled as her eyes strayed back to her brother. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about -- Apollo!"

He looked up at her scandalized tone. "What?"

She reached forward and tugged his uniform sleeve down over the marks on his left wrist.

He felt sick. The bruises on both wrists were already starting to fade; it wouldn't be long before they were hardly noticeable, but that wrist had chafed deeply on one side and a long scab had formed over the last few days. Until now, he'd managed to keep the marks covered. Still, he didn't think she'd seen more than the scab, at least he hoped she hadn't.

"'Thena," he managed in a strangled whisper.

"Ah-ah." She wagged a finger at him. "This is already far more than I really want to know, Pol. What you two get up to in private is your own business."

"N-no, Athena --"

She leaned over again and cut him off. "Although, you do know, they make them with padding, don't you? Or so I've been told."

She pulled away and picked up her drink again while Apollo tried to draw a breath into suddenly paralysed lungs.

"Oh, Apollo! You should see your face!" she choked out.

His lungs started working again and Apollo took a deep breath. He leaned over and whispered angrily, "For your information, Athena, I scraped it pulling mud out of one of the shuttlecraft engine intakes a few days ago. We had to dig the damn thing out and I got careless. That's all!"

"Oh, come on, Apollo, I was just teasing you. I know you wouldn't. And even if you would, I know for a fact Starbuck won't - at least not to leave marks like that."

He tossed himself back in his seat and irritably devoted himself to his drink.

"Oh, lighten up, Pol," she said cheerfully. "Look, here's Starbuck. You can have this seat, Bucko, I've got to be going... somewhere. Busy, busy."

Both men watched as she bustled out the door.

"What was that?" Starbuck asked, gesturing after Athena with his thumb.

Apollo shook his head.

"I don't know. I don't think I want to know, either," he said firmly. He glanced around, but Boxey and his buddies were still playing. Of all the times for Starbuck to decide to hit the Rejuvenation Center... and of course, Athena had bailed on him. He checked the door for anyone who might be Milo's father. He wasn't even sure what the man looked like.

Starbuck lowered himself into the chair Athena had vacated. His eyes lingered on Apollo's hair for a centon.

"There's something I want to know, Pol," he said softly, turning to scan the crowded room.

Of course, there was. Apollo closed his eyes. Tension crawled up his back again.

"Oh? What's that?" he asked in a tone intended to deter any such questions.

Naturally, Starbuck was undeterred.

"I want to know why you've been avoiding me for the last quatron," he murmured.

"I haven't been avoiding you, Starbuck."

"Oh, really? Everywhere I go, you're not. And if you are, as soon as I get into the room, you find the exit. This is the longest conversation we've had since you got back from Malea, and I had to convince Athena to help me trap you into it," he said, his voice rising slightly toward the end.

"Athena --" Apollo twisted in the direction his sister had gone, but she'd disappeared.

"She called me on my summoner as soon as you got here and promised to keep you busy for me." Starbuck caught Apollo's left arm, unconsciously connecting with the hidden bruises as he pinned it to the table. "Now, would you tell me what is going --"

"Dad!" Boxey announced himself with a shout as he launched himself at his father.

Pain shot through Apollo's back and shoulder as the boy landed and he gasped. "Felger! Boxey! Off!"

The child dropped to his feet and backed away, eyes wide at Apollo's sharp tone. Apollo guiltily shoved the pain to one side and pulled the boy back to him with a shaky grin.

"Hey, buddy, where'd you get such sharp elbows?" he asked and tickled the boy's ribs until he curled up, giggling. "You're getting pretty big, there. With a tackle like that, we'll have to get you into a junior Triad league pretty soon, huh, kiddo?"

"Apollo..."

He looked up at Starbuck, who was watching him with blue eyes wide as Boxey's had been just a moment before and Apollo tamped down another surge of guilt.

"Starbuck--" He broke off as Boxey executed a sort of boneless slither and slid out of his arms. "Hey! Where're you going?"

"Milo's dad's here! I hafta say goodbye to Milo!" Boxey took off at a run.

Apollo glanced back at Starbuck and away. The uncomfortable tightness that had been his off and on companion over the last few days settled in his chest again. When he looked back, he was glad to see Starbuck wasn't looking at him anymore, concentrating instead on the fumarello he'd pulled from the pocket of his flight jacket.

"I'm not avoiding you, Starbuck," he repeated. "I just... I need some time to myself, alright?"

"Can I come by later?" Starbuck asked stiffly. "I'd really like to talk to you."

Bojay's description of Apollo's behavior had worried him. He'd been trying to get Apollo alone ever since, but after four days of Apollo flying evasive maneuvers every time his friend and lover came into sight, Starbuck was edging past worried and into angry. He wasn't a patient man at the best of times. He watched as Apollo fidgeted. He was looking anywhere but at Starbuck.

"Starbuck, please. I told you, not right now," Apollo said. "I need to be alone for a while. I need to think about things."

"What kind of things?" he asked, voice subdued and tight.

"Just... things. I've got a major parts and equipment inventory to organize, and I've been working with Ondrus on the new physical training regimen for the squadrons, squadron leader evaluations are coming up... things," Apollo said irritably. He wished Starbuck would just take no for an answer for once. He just needed a little time to settle back into things. He just needed a little room to breathe. Kobol, but Boxey was taking an amazingly long time to say goodbye to Milo.

They sat together in an increasingly strained silence before Starbuck stirred again.

"Speaking of Triad," he said. "We've got a game scheduled tomorrow, in case you've forgotten."

Apollo winced. He had forgotten. Gods, there was no way in Hades...

"Yeah. Look, Bucko, I don't think I'm going to be able to make it. Can you find an alternate?"

"An alternate?!"

Starbuck's sudden anger was all out of proportion to the question, but Apollo didn't allow himself to worry about it. He welcomed it and allowed his own carefully banked anger to surface. It cleared his head. An ironic voice in the back of his head commented that he seemed to thrive on anger lately.

"Yes, an alternate," he snapped back.

"Where in Hades Hole am I supposed to find an alternate this close to game time?!"

"An alternate?" a vaguely familiar voice called out from the table to their right. "You're not playing tomorrow, Captain?"

The man - Karlan, that was his name, Apollo remembered - sounded oddly hopeful and Apollo's ire twisted that much higher.

"No, I'm not playing," he snapped.

He glanced back at Starbuck who was staring at him, white-lipped with anger.

Karlan and Merril. Tomorrow night's opponents. Apollo had been counting on them for an easy win when he'd seen them on the schedule. Was it only a secton ago?

Starbuck turned to the other table.

"That's right, boys," he said with venomous good cheer. "You get to win one. By _default._"

He tossed back his chair and stalked out of the room.

**************

Apollo waited until he was sure Boxey was down for the night before going into the small washroom in their quarters. He stripped to the waist. His eyes skittered over the scattering of small dark marks on his chest and focused lower. The bruises on his abdomen had darkened to a deep purple. He'd hoped they'd clear enough by the beginning of next secton that they wouldn't show in work-out gear, but it was going to be difficult to hide them. He'd just have to find something dark colored to wear and stay away from the communal turbowashes. The Triad uniform would have to wait another two sectons, though, at least.

Assuming Starbuck still wanted him for a partner after this afternoon. Assuming Starbuck wanted him at all after... He pushed aside the thought and twisted in front of the mirror, trying to get a look at his back.

The lower bandage was still in place, but the one on his right shoulder had been knocked loose on one edge when Boxey tackled him. A couple of reddish-brown stains showed through the gauze. Damn. That one was the hardest to reach.

He dug through the medicine cabinet for more gauze and tape and the tube of topical antibiotic. He loosened the tape around the lower wound and fingered it gently. It seemed to be healing well, at least. He added strips of tape around the edge of a gauze pad and spread it with the antibiotic ointment before carefully maneuvering it into place using the mirror as a guide.

Now, the other one. He'd need a hand mirror to get a good look at this one. He reached around with one hand and pulled on the loosened edge of the tape. The gauze stuck for a micron or two and he hissed as it pulled away. He angled the hand mirror.

This one wasn't looking so good. The whole area looked glossy and red, a little puckered around the torn skin. It was swollen, livid and hot to the touch. He tried to twist his right arm up and around and cursed at the pain that shot through his shoulder. He turned slightly to one side instead and groaned. Livid streaks traveled from the right side of the swollen patch toward his right arm and side. Frack. He was no medtech, but he knew enough about first-aid that wasn't good.

He leaned back against the sink. Despite all of his precautions, the damned thing was infected and the topical ointment just wasn't doing the job. He couldn't go to Life Center. No way would Salik let him get away without an explanation. Bile rose in his throat again and he swallowed hard. Lords, no...

If he could find a reason to travel to one of the other ships... But, no, that wouldn't work, either. The doctors at any clinic in the Fleet would want to know exactly why Strike Captain Apollo had landed on their doorstep instead of Galactica's Life Center. It wasn't like he could travel anywhere in the Fleet without being recognized, a thought that rankled at the best of times, but tonight especially.

He glanced back at the mirror and sighed. He had to do something.

He pulled on a robe and went back out into the main living area. He didn't have the comm number he needed, he'd never had reason to call before, but it was easily located in the communications directory. Her voice was sleepy when she answered and he remembered guiltily that it was well into sleep period.

"Cassiopea?"

"Who? Apollo? What time is it?" she asked groggily.

"It's late, I'm sorry." He hesitated for a centon. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder if she was alone. Was she dating anyone right now? He didn't keep up with her as much now that she and Starbuck... Now that he and Starbuck...

"Apollo? Is there something I can do for you?" she asked, sounding more alert.

He thought of the ugly red lines radiating out of the abscess on his shoulder and took a deep breath.

"Do you remember a few sectars ago, we were talking about how in your... former occupation... you were sometimes entrusted with... confidences?"

There was a long pause.

"I remember that conversation, yes. Gemonese socialators are well trained, especially those of us in the Haetara class. I told you that you could trust me with just about anything," she answered finally.

"Could you come over? Now, I mean," he said softly.

"I can be there in ten centons," she said. He heard a soft rustling from her end of the connection.

"Um, Cassie?"

The rustling stopped. "Yes?"

"You'll need to bring a medical scanner and your kit with you."

"I'll be right there."

The connection closed. He sat heavily in the chair next to the comm and waited for the door chime.


	2. Chapter 2

The last time Cassiopea had actually seen Apollo was from the sidelines of the Rising Star's Triad arena, about two sectons before. Apollo's duties rarely took him to Life Center unless one of his pilots was there and once she and Starbuck had called it quits, they just hadn't run into each other that much. She still saw Athena regularly, they had a friendly standing ambrosa date in the lounge that served the civilian support staff once a secton, but Apollo had always been just a bit aloof.

Cassiopea didn't take offense. It hadn't taken her long to realize that Apollo was just a bit aloof with everyone, or at least almost everyone. Outside of his family, there was a small, tight group with whom Apollo felt comfortable enough to step out of the Strike Captain persona and just be Apollo; that group was exclusively male. It wasn't that he didn't like Cassiopea, she'd realized, but that, like women in general, aside from a small but significant blip named Serina, she just wasn't anywhere on his scanner.

To be honest, she was surprised that Apollo had called her at all. Apollo didn't relate well to women, as evidenced by that bizarre exchange on Paradeen when he'd asked her to play up to Michael. She'd spoken to the scientist just long enough to find out that Sarah had been Apollo's real concern and had then taken the sullen young woman aside for a heart-to-heart. Apollo could relate to warriors and doctors and politicians who also happened to be women, but only by ignoring the fact that they were female at all. This made him popular with women warriors and doctors and politicians, but confused the Hades out of those who expected him to look past the designation to the woman. Sheba was a case in point. Cassiopea had begun to think she was going to have to take another sullen young woman aside for a heart-to-heart before Sheba had finally gotten the message after that Cylon baseship infiltration from which the boys almost hadn't made it back.

He opened the door quickly once she sounded the call button. He placed a finger across his lips and tossed his head back toward the far end of the living quarters. The lights in the room were dimmed to night-light level; just enough for a small boy to be able to make his way to the head during his sleep period without tripping over the furniture.

"Boxey," he whispered in explanation.

"Is Boxey sick?" she asked, momentarily confused. Apollo doted on the boy; surely if he was sick or hurt he'd have been taken to the Life Center, not left to wait on a single medtech.

He seemed surprised by the question but shook his head.

"No, he's good. I just don't want to wake him."

She took a closer look at the man. No, Boxey might not be sick, but Apollo...

"Apollo, call up the lights," she said firmly.

The lights came up and she got a better look at him. He looked pale and tired, almost as worn as when they'd first met just after the Destruction.

"Have you been having trouble sleeping?" she asked.

He shrugged. "A bit."

"Insomnia?"

"Dreams," he said dismissively. "They wake me up."

She nodded. Bad dreams and disturbed sleep certainly weren't uncommon among the citizens of the Fleet.

"You know I can't prescribe anything, right?"

"Yeah. That's actually not why I called," he said, oddly reluctant.

He seemed tense, almost jumpy. Cassiopea was reminded briefly of the skittish, half-wild felix she'd befriended once outside her little apartment on Gemon. She got the feeling he'd bolt just as quickly if she made any sudden moves.

"You wanted to know if I would keep something in confidence," she said, keeping her tone neutral.

She watched as Apollo battled with himself for a full centon before finally giving in.

"I have a small... injury. Something I picked up a few days ago on Malea. I tried to take care of it myself, but it's gotten infected."

"Well, let's take a look," she said. "Where is it? And why haven't you gone to the Life Center? You know that any injuries sustained planet-side need to be reported immediately."

"I thought I could take care of it myself," he muttered as he turned away. "I didn't want to bother anyone with it."

Cassiopea walked over to the small dinette table and set down her kit. By the time she'd retrieved and calibrated the medical scanner, Apollo had come over and seated himself in one of the chairs next to her. She reached out a hand to touch his forehead and he jumped, startled.

"Sorry," he muttered. "You caught me by surprise."

"No problem," she said.

She glanced at the scanner and frowned. His pulse was pounding as if he'd just come off a Triad court and his temperature was elevated.

"Well, you're definitely running a temp - low-grade but above your baseline. So, let's get a look at this thing you didn't want to bother anyone with," she said, scolding gently.

Apollo took a deep breath and nodded, eyes closed. He carefully pulled the robe off of his right shoulder and let it fall a little, then leaned forward over the table so she could get a look at it.

"Oh, Lords, Apollo." She palpated the area gently and he hissed. "How could you let this get like this?"

"It wasn't like this yesterday," he said defensively.

"You went through decon?"

He chuffed out a small laugh. "Oh, yes."

"That should have taken care of anything you picked up on Malea, but any open wound is an invitation to infection. It's probably a form of staph; the bacteria are everywhere and the infections can get out of hand quickly," she sighed and poured a little topical antiseptic over her hands to clean them. "Well, I can't treat this here. You're going to have to come into Life Center with me."

"No," he said with surprising emotion.

She peered at the mess of torn tissue at the center of the infection. "Apollo, is this a _bite_?" she asked, shocked. "Something _bit_ you like this and you didn't say anything?"

She moved his arm to determine the extent of the lividity and caught sight of the scatter of bruises fading marring it. Wider marks on the outside of his arm gave way to small, individual shadows stippling the inside. She'd seen bruising like this a few times before, back on Gemon, and her heart ached.

"Oh, Apollo." She drew a steadying breath. "Alright, I need you to take off the robe."

"Cass--"

"No arguments, pilot," she rapped out firmly. "I need to see the rest of it. Stand up."

She moved around him slowly, noting each visible mark, knowing that Salik would expect a full accounting. Three dark elliptical suction marks stood out on his chest. More bruising, not as faded as that on his arm, was centered on his belly, disappearing below the waistline of his uniform trousers. Bruising on his left arm matched the right. She noted the partially-healed chafing mark on his left wrist and took his hands in hers, holding them together to examine the darkened skin on his wrists. His hands trembled in hers but when she looked up, he averted his face.

She squeezed his fingers lightly before releasing them.

His upper back showed more of the light bruising, but none as severe as his abdomen. She picked off a corner of the fresh bandage on his lower left side and checked the second bite wound there. Thankfully, it wasn't as deep as the first and showed no sign of infection.

Apollo stirred and said softly, "That one was easier to get to."

"Was the skin broken?"

"A little," he said shakily. "Not as bad."

She nodded. "I won't ask you to strip further here, but are there any injuries I need to know about on your lower extremities?"

He shook his head miserably. "A few bruises."

She doubted that, but handed him his robe without comment and he slipped it back on gratefully. She motioned to his chair and he sank into, elbows resting on the table in front of him.

"How far did they get?" she asked more gently.

"What?"

"Was it only a beating, or was there penetration involved?" she asked.

He winced and ducked his head.

"Apollo?"

He nodded once sharply, mute.

"Alright," she said more firmly, forcing herself back into medtech mode. She reached into her kit and pulled out a few attachments for the scanner, setting them in a neat row on the table beside them. "I'll call ahead to the Life Center, get a private exam room set up --"

"No!"

Apollo's hand darted out and caught her arm. She stared at him for a centon and he colored and released her, looking away.

"I meant it about the Life Center, Cass," he said, addressing the clenched fists that rested on the table in front of him. "I can't go there."

"Apollo, you have to," she said. "If for no other reason than that abscess needs to be drained and packed; it may even need some dermal regeneration unless you want it to scar. It's gone to cellulitis, so you'll need at least a secton of antibiotics..."

She trailed off as he shook his head in stubborn denial.

"I can't," he repeated, sounding more lost than she'd ever heard. "I-I can't. Gods, it'll go on my record, it'll be reported to the Colonel, to my _father_..."

"They're your commanding officers, Apollo, of _course_ any injuries will have to be reported to them!" Cassiopea threw up her hands. "Why are you being so stubborn about this? Unless..." A thought occurred to her, and while she didn't think that would be Apollo's scene, she had to at least ask. "Is this is somehow the result of consensual play? Something that got out of hand? If it is, we can keep the details of how the wounds occurred out of the official record, but you'll be on your own explaining it to your father. I'll need to know who your partner was, though, so we can check him out."

Apollo's eyes were wide and shocked, his face pale. "Consensual?" he said in a sickened voice. "You think I would..."

Cassiopea reached out and touched his face gently, not particularly surprised when he flinched involuntarily.

"No, Apollo, I don't really. It's not the kind of game I'd think would appeal to you, but considering the way you're acting, I had to ask," she said gently. "I can't think of any other reason you'd want to avoid treatment like this."

He looked away again. "I don't want anyone to know," he admitted painfully. "I can't... How could I face anyone?" Anger flared and his voice rose harshly. "How could I walk into that duty office every day, sit in briefings, knowing that they _all know_ that... What would they think?!"

"'What would they think?' What do you mean, 'what would they think?'" she said. "Apollo, you don't honestly think that anyone is going to think any less of you because of this?"

He didn't answer, which was answer enough.

"It wouldn't be common knowledge, Apollo," she assured him. "It'll be part of your medical and psych file, but that's confidential information and Salik would flay the hide off of anyone in Life Center who breathed a word. No one but your immediate superiors will ever know unless you tell them."

"God," he breathed.

"You and your golmonging Caprican male pride!" she fumed. "That's what this is about, isn't it? Well, I've got news for you, Apollo. I've never catered to Starbuck's, and I certainly won't cater to yours."

He flinched at the mention of Starbuck.

"In case you didn't notice, Captain, there were two other warriors on that planet with you," she scolded. "If it had been Dietra or Cholla who'd been attacked, would you think any less of them?"

He blanched. "No, of course not. Dee's..."

"A woman? Do you honestly think that makes a difference? And what about Cholla?"

"He's just a kid," Apollo said uncertainly.

"He's a grown man, and a warrior, and so is Dietra. If this had happened to either one of them, I know exactly what you'd have done. You'd have dragged them both into Life Center by their shirt-collars if you'd had to and then you'd have been up there in Command getting in the Commander's face, spitting fire and demanding retribution."

He sat in silence.

"You don't really have a choice, Apollo," she continued. "I'm a medtech, I have to report this. I'm bound by my oath. Now, I'm going to put a light dressing on that wound for the interim and then I'm going to call Athena to come and sit with Boxey. While I'm doing that, Captain, you have a decision to make. You need to decide if you are going to put on your tunic and walk down to Life Center with me, or if you want to be carried down to Life Center on a gurney. Because you are going, one way or the other."

*****************

"Would some one like to explain to me why I've been roused from my billet in the middle of my sleep period?"

Cassiopea could hear Salik's impatient voice from inside the sterile storage area and quickly wrapped the pre-packaged procedure kit in a towel before emerging into the main Life Center bay to meet the CMO.

"I had you summoned, doctor," she called out.

He glared at her. "Was there an explanation in there somewhere?" he asked acerbically.

She caught the older man by the arm and steered him towards a more private corner of the bay.

"I've got Captain Apollo in exam room Beta-3," she said softly.

"Beta-3?" Salik frowned. The examination rooms were divided into several sections. Most preliminary exams took place in the curtained off alcoves of the Alpha section. The smaller Beta section was for suspected contagions or more sensitive issues. Salik's irritation was diverted into professional concern.

"He called me to his quarters about two centars ago. He has an abscess on his right shoulder that's gone to cellulitis. It's centered in a wound that he admitted he had recieved on Malea."

"Dear Lords," Salik muttered, shaking his head. "Don't these pilots know --"

"It's a bite wound," she whispered fiercely, interrupting his tirade.

"A bite? What kind of bite?"

"Malandri, I'm assuming," she said. "There are two of them. He's also covered in bruises. There's a large bruise on his stomach, hand and fingertip bruising on his upper arms, ligature bruising on his wrists, and his behavior..."

She broke off for a moment.

"Go on," Salik said, his voice grim.

"Based on my observations, I suspected that Apollo had been assaulted; when confronted, he confirmed that he had been."

Salik cocked his head in that odd Scorpian way of his. "Assaulted? You don't mean..."

She lifted the edge of the towel enough to show him the pale yellow color-coded packaging on the exam kit.

"Dear Lords," he breathed again.

Cassiopea gave him a micron, then continued. "Paye's with him, now, dealing with the abscess, but I thought you'd want to be the one to handle the rest of the exam."

"Yes, of course," Salik nodded. "Has anyone else been notified?"

Cassiopea shook her head. "I had to call Athena to sit with Boxey, but neither of us told her anything more than that Apollo needed to visit Life Center. He's very uncomfortable with the idea of anyone knowing what's happened."

"I can well imagine," Salik said. He sighed.

"I did make a cursory exam while we were still in Apollo's quarters. The tapes from the medical scanner are in your office --"

Voices rose from across the bay. They were jumbled and incoherent at first, then Apollo's strident voice sounded over Paye's nasal tones at full parade-ground volume.

"I don't give a flying frack what you meant! Get the frack out!"

The door to the exam room opened briefly as Paye's medtech, Jada, hurried out. Cassiopea slipped into the room as she left. A black-uniformed security guard, responding to the disturbance, jogged across the open bay, summoner to his lips.

The angry voices subsided somewhat, with Cassiopea's light voice added to the mix. Salik caught the guard's arm and quickly motioned him out of the way. The man looked like he wanted to argue, but Salik silenced him with a jerk of his head.

"Jada?"

"Lordol," she snapped out the name of a standard quick-acting sedative as she passed again.

Salik nodded his approval. It wouldn't hurt to have something on hand. He was under no illusions as to how much damage a Colonial Warrior could inflict if he was out of control.

He turned back to the guard. "You stay on this side of the door unless you're called."

Without waiting for an answer, he hurried inside.

Cassiopea and Apollo were on one side of the room against the storage cabinets speaking in hushed tones. Apollo gestured angrily across the room and Cassiopea caught his hand, speaking soothingly, too low to be heard clearly.

Paye and Jada were closer to the door with the exam table between them and the captain.

Apollo's voice rose again, agitated, as Salik entered the room and closed the door.

"Cass, I don't care! I don't want that man anywhere near me!" he said, jabbing an angry finger in Paye's direction. His breathing was rapid and shallow.

"Paye," Salik said softly and jerked his head towards the door.

"Sir-"

"We'll talk later. Right now, you're upsetting the patient," Salik growled. "Now, go on."

The man flushed and left and Salik turned his attention back to Apollo.

"Alright, Captain, he's gone. Now, young man, would you like to tell me why you're shouting at my staff?"

Apollo jerked as if he'd only just noticed Salik's arrival. A sort of muted horror washed over the man's face and he sagged against the counter.

"Gods, I think I'm losing my mind," he said shakily.

Salik sighed and joined Cassiopea next to the shaking man.

"No, son. You're not," he said gently. He beckoned silently to Jada. "You are, however, very upset. Why don't you let me give you something to help you calm down?"

"No!"

"It's just Lordol; you've had that before, I know. Not enough to knock you out, Apollo. Just enough to take the edge off," Salik assured him calmly. He took the hypospray Jada pressed into his hand and glanced at the tiny readout on the handle. "Here, half of this dosage should be about right."

He adjusted the controls a bit.

Apollo shook his head obstinately. "No. Doctor Salik, please. I'll be alright. Just give me a few centons," he said, still somewhat breathless.

Salik looked him over with an appraising eye. The captain did seem to have gotten himself back under control, though he was shaking from reaction. He nodded.

"Alright, Apollo. Take a few centons to calm down. I'm going to step outside with Jada."

Apollo nodded without looking up, arms braced on the examination bed in front of him.

"Cassiopea, I'm leaving this hypo with you," Salik said softly. "If he needs it..."

"Yes, doctor," she acknowledged with a nod.

He collected Jada with a nod and followed her out the door.

"What happened?" he asked curtly.

She drew a breath to speak when the security guard interrupted.

"Hey, Doc, was that the Cap--"

Salik whirled on the young man.

"That, CSO Odel, was a patient in this facility and I am absolutely certain that your superiors have briefed you on the confidentiality protocols for Life Center."

The man stiffened. "Yes, Doctor Salik."

"Now, you're dismissed."

"But, sir--"

"If we need you, we'll call," Salik said curtly. "Dismissed."

"That'll keep him quiet for about half a micron," Jada remarked coolly as the black-uniformed guard stalked towards the exit.

"Let me worry about that. What happened in there?"

"I'm really not certain, doctor," Jada said with a worried frown. "Dr. Paye had just finished up with the Captain's shoulder and the two of them were talking quietly. Dr. Paye was giving him some instructions for taking care of it. I went to get some more of the topical antiseptic from the cabinets, so I didn't hear exactly what was being said. When I turned back around, the Captain was very pale, he looked shocked for a micron, and then he just exploded at Paye. It might have been something the doctor said, but I have no idea what it could have been. Paye tried to talk to him but he just became more agitated. That's when the doctor sent me for the Lordol. You know the rest."

Salik rubbed at his right temple with a sigh. "Alright, I don't have time to talk to Paye right this centon. Tell him that I want a written report on my desk before he leaves at the end of his shift. I want to know everything that was said in that exam room, understood? Write up what you witnessed as well, Jada."

"Yes, doctor." Jada paused. "Sir, I've never known the Captain to be a difficult patient," she offered. "At least, no more so than most warriors. I've never seen him like that. Whatever set him off..."

Salik nodded and patted the woman's arm. "Just write up your report, Jada, and make sure Paye knows to write his. I'll take care of everything else."

*****************

Cassiopea watched as Salik and Jada left and the door slid closed behind them. She walked over to Apollo and leaned against the exam bed next to him.

"Alright, Apollo, it's just you and me," Cassiopea murmured. "You want to tell me what that was all about?"

He laughed under his breath.

"Not really."

She smiled ruefully.

"Gonna tell me anyway?"

"I knew I shouldn't have come here," he said softly.

"I'd like to give you a hug. Is that alright with you?"

He grinned a little and nodded and she slipped her arm around his waist and pulled him close for a quick squeeze. He shuddered a bit as some of the tension in his body released.

"So, what happened?" she prodded.

"Paye said something..." He leaned into her side just a bit before pulling away gently and turning to sit on the exam bed. "He'd just given me a prescription and told me to be sure and come back in a few days, and he told me that Salik was being called in for... you know..."

"Mm-hmm," Cassiopea nodded.

Apollo swallowed hard, refusing to look at her.

"And then he says... he doesn't know why we're all making such a... big deal out of it..." He stopped and cleared his throat. "Because it's not like it was anything new to me."

Cassiopea stilled.

"And then I remembered he did my last physical, a couple of sectars ago." He shrugged diffidently. "I thought we'd... I'd been more careful than that, but I guess he saw something then."

She stood silently, not trusting herself to speak for a moment.

"I know. I overreacted," he continued. "I'll apologize to Dr. Salik when he gets back... and to Paye..."

Cassiopea laid a hand on his arm, realizing he'd misunderstood her silence.

"Oh, no, you won't," she said, seething. "That ignorant, golmonging... I can't believe he'd say something like that."

"I'm sure he meant it innocently, it's just... It wasn't a good time for it," he said.

"No. No, it certainly wasn't," Salik's gravel voice interposed softly. "And I'm very sorry you had to hear it, Apollo. It was an insensitive comment and very unprofessional on Paye's part. I can assure you, we will be having words."

Cassiopea hadn't heard him enter, but could be nothing but grateful for the doctor's timing. She locked eyes with the older man for a micron and was glad to see the same outrage she was feeling reflected there.

Salik walked over to Apollo, who hadn't looked up.

"Why don't we get this over with?"

*****************

Boomer frowned as he looked over the morning rosters.

"Hey, Starbuck!" he called, pitching his voice to travel into the Ready Room just past the open office door. "You see Apollo yesterday?"

A locker slammed shut.

"I saw him."

The lieutenant's voice carried that sardonic tone again. It was the tone that usually had either Apollo or Boomer, and sometimes both of them together, dragging the other man down to a quiet corner of the Officers' Club to hash things out.

"He seem alright to you?"

Starbuck slung himself against the door frame with studied negligence.

"He was just great," he said heartily. "He gave me the runaround, snapped at Boxey for no apparent reason and announced to the entire room, including our opponents, that he was bailing on tonight's match without naming an alternate, but other than that he was just swell."

Boomer blinked.

"Get in here and close the door."

Starbuck sighed audibly but complied. Boomer indicated the chair in front of the desk and the lieutenant dropped into it.

"Alright, Bucko, what's going on?" he asked, leaning forward.

Starbuck sighed again and scratched at his left eyebrow uncomfortably.

"I wish I knew, Boom-boom. Pol hasn't let me within a parsec of him since he got back from that damned trade mission," he said bitterly. He hesitated, looking suddenly a bit vulnerable. He aimed a sidelong glance at Boomer. "Then yesterday... he picked a fight with me in the middle of the Rejuvenation Center. I think he wants to call it quits."

Boomer leaned back, staring at nothing for a moment while he thought about it.

Starbuck shifted uncomfortably in his chair and held up his hands. "I know, I know. I shouldn't be talking to you about it, and I really shouldn't be airing it on duty. I'll... keep my bad mood to myself," he said, heavy with resignation.

"No, Starbuck, that's not it," Boomer said. "What happened after you guys argued?"

Starbuck shrugged. "I left. I assume he and Boxey left, too, I didn't stick around to find out. Apollo'd made it very clear that he didn't want my company, so..."

"So, you have no idea why he's on Life Center Relief for the next secton with an option to extend it at Salik's discretion?"

That knocked Starbuck right out of his self-indulgence, Boomer noticed with some satisfaction.

"He's _what_?"

"I knew he'd taken himself off the patrol rotation just before he left for Malea, since he wasn't going to be here," Boomer continued. "He never put himself back on it when he got back, but I figured he was catching up on some paperwork and that stuff with Ondrus. Now..." He shook his head slowly. "You have no idea what's up with him?"

Starbuck was on his feet. "No, but I'm going to find out. With permission?" He indicated the door.

"Wait til after your shift," Boomer said with a shake of his head.

"Boomer!"

"Hey! He's not listed as being in Life Center, Starbuck, just on Life Center Relief. He's probably in his quarters resting up," Boomer said reasonably.

"But--"

"He knows what duty shift you're on, my friend, and if he sees you on the crew quarter decks now, it won't help anything. You know what Apollo can be like, especially when he wants to be difficult," Boomer finished. "You said yourself, he's not been kindly disposed to you lately."

Starbuck made a frustrated noise and flung himself back into his chair.

****************

Apollo felt like he'd run a gauntlet over the past six centars since leaving Life Center. He'd emerged from the examination room to find a summons to the Colonel's office waiting for him. He was to present himself at his earliest convenience.

Tigh had dealt with him neutrally but not unkindly, much to Apollo's relief. He found the Colonel's matter of fact, business-like handling of the whole affair calming. He'd managed to keep his emotional response to the... incident... largely under control, he'd thought, but now he was left feeling battered and bloody and more than a little shameful. He had answered all of Tigh's questions in a second debriefing that had left him shaking and nauseous and had accepted the formal reprimand and the loss of a secton's wages for failing to report the incident gladly. It should never have happened, he knew that.

He should never have allowed any of it to happen.

Apollo shook himself mentally. He was in danger of falling once again into the drifting fog he'd been avoiding for the last four days and it terrified him. He had a suspicion that, with at least a secton of Life Center Relief to look forward to, it would be all too easy to get lost in it. Depression was not a native state for Apollo nor one with which he had much sympathy, especially in himself. It was always better to just get out and do and, normally, that's what he did. Normal, though, didn't seem to apply in this situation and there was frighteningly little to be done at any rate other than sit and think.

Now he stood in his father's quarters, mute, staring at stars so distant that they gave no indication of the Galactica's movement in relation to them. Unknown stars, meaningless to him at this micron, though he knew they shouldn't be and wouldn't have been just days or sectons ago.

It was Adama who finally broke the heavy silence.

"Tinia told me."

Apollo looked around at his father, startled.

"What?"

Adama wasn't looking at him, staring instead at a point of space somewhere in front of him.

"After the Malea debriefing. She told me that something was wrong, that there was something you weren't telling us. I took it as a criticism," the old man said softly. He blinked quickly and cleared his throat. "I defended you quite hotly."

Apollo felt his face flush at the softly accusatory tone. He closed his eyes and turned away. What was there to say, after all?

His father's voice continued relentlessly. "She was very quick to correct me. She assured me that she had intended no disrespect to you as a warrior; she was concerned for you personally. She said there was something about you..." There was a long pause before Adama continued. His voice shook as he whispered, "I didn't see it. I saw the anger and frustration, of course. I saw the fatigue. But the rest... I just didn't see it, son."

"I didn't want you to," Apollo choked out. "I didn't want you to ever see it."

He looked up then, and there was something in his father's eyes at that moment, something bare that Apollo suspected his father had as little desire for his son to see as Apollo had to see it. He looked away again.

His father came to him and pulled him against his chest. Apollo stiffened at first, then forced himself to allow the touch, stilling his reactions until the old man was finished and wishing all the time for the Commander instead. Anger rose again, but this time he forced it down and it settled bleak and heavy in his stomach.

When he finally made his escape, he threw himself into the nearest head and relieved himself of everything he hadn't eaten in the last twelve centars in a painful rush of dry-heaves.

He rested his head against the wall of the small cubicle and prayed to all the Lords to never let him see pity in his father's eyes again.

****************

Apollo made it back to his own quarters without passing too many people. Those he did meet simply nodded their normal greeting, he noticed with relief. Regardless of Cassiopea and Salik's assurances, he hadn't entirely trusted that the whole story wouldn't be all over the ship by now, especially after his disgraceful behavior in Life Center last night.

Despite Cassie's opinion, he really would need to apologize to Paye. He and his men had to rely on the doctors in Life Center for their lives. He couldn't afford bad blood between them... but not right now. Right now the thought of the tall, thin doctor was enough to make his skin crawl. He was almost as tall as the Malandri had been... another line of thought best not followed.

His uniform was suddenly uncomfortably tight and over-warm. Apollo pulled off the flight jacket and tossed it carelessly at the couch, then tugged sharply at the fastenings on his tunic. It gaped open at the neck and he leaned over the small dinette table, gasping for breath and willing his heart to slow.

His pulse pounded in his ears. It came as a surprise when someone suddenly appeared at his elbow and he swung around, arm rising to block.

"Hey!" Starbuck deflected the block and stepped back out of range, hands raised.

"Starbuck, what're you doing here?" Apollo gasped out. "Don't you use the door chimes?"

"I did. You didn't answer, but I knew you were in here so I let myself in. I always do, you know that," he answered, not really sure why he was suddenly on the defensive.

Apollo gripped the back of one of the chairs to hide the shaking in his hands and fought to get his breathing under control. This couldn't happen, not now, not with Starbuck standing not two metrons away.

"Apollo, what's going on?" Starbuck said, soft and intense. "You've been avoiding me for days, I had to find out from Boomer that you were on Life Center Relief, then I had to work an entire duty shift before he'd let me come find you... You know Tigh's been grilling Dietra and Cholla for the last couple of centars, don't you?"

Apollo started at that and turned to face him.

"Dee and Cholla?" he shook his head, sounding a bit dazed. "No, I didn't know." He pounded a fist against the chair-back he'd been gripping. "I told him they didn't have anything to do with-- but, of course he won't trust my word for that now," he muttered with a humorless laugh. He had a suspicion that it would be a long time before he had anything to do with first contacts, not that he really cared at the centon.

"Didn't have anything to do with what?" Starbuck asked and moved closer. His eyes drifted over Apollo's disheveled uniform and his breath caught. He reached out to move the loosened tunic aside, but Apollo snatched at the collar and slapped it back into place. "Pollo?"

Apollo shook his head briefly, almost impatiently. "It's not what it looks like," he said shakily. He turned away, dragging his hand through his hair.

"I wouldn't know about that. I didn't really get a chance to see it, did I?" Starbuck shot back. "And since when does Colonel Tigh not trust you? Apollo, what in Hades is going on?!"

Apollo turned back to look at him, eyes wide and stricken. His mouth moved silently for a micron. The urge to move wasn't conscious, Starbuck simply found himself across the room folding Apollo into his arms. Apollo shuddered once and ducked his head into the side of Starbuck's neck, arms loose at his sides, as his lover's hands moved in soothing sweeps across his back. Apollo's silent acquiescence was enough to communicate his state of mind to the younger man. His obstinately independent lover didn't easily allow this kind of comfort; Apollo was far more comfortable on the giving end than the receiving. They stood together for several centons, Apollo's warm, moist breath heating Starbuck's neck in a gentle rhythm. Finally, Apollo stirred, his arms coming up to Starbuck's waist as he gently pushed himself away. Starbuck reached up and caught the back of Apollo's head before he could pull away entirely, resting their foreheads gently together for a few microns before tilting his head for a kiss. Apollo turned his face away before he could complete the movement.

"Pol?"

Apollo shook his head gently and rested against Starbuck's neck again. His lips moved softly against the warm skin at first, then began to roam with more assurance. Starbuck swallowed as blood rushed in his veins and Apollo's hands moved from his waist to slide around his back and pull him closer. He tilted his head back just a bit and allowed his own hands to fall to Apollo's slim hips, pulling his lover closer, wanting to feel his warmth against his own. Only...

"Apollo."

Starbuck pulled away, pushing at his lover's hips gently.

Apollo made a frustrated sound but allowed himself to be put away. His eyes opened with a slow flutter to find Starbuck's searching them. A short laugh forced its way out of his throat past the growing sense of mortification. He'd known this would happen, Lords, he'd known but he'd hoped.

"What's the matter, Starbuck? Not interested?" he asked roughly.

"Not if you're not," he answered softly. Starbuck caught him before he could turn away and reached down to cup Apollo's soft groin gently.

Apollo gasped and pulled away sharply, not looking at Starbuck.

"Isn't using sex as a distraction supposed to be one of my little tricks?" Starbuck commented with false brightness.

Apollo moved around the room fidgeting uncomfortably, touching one item then another, never looking at Starbuck.

Starbuck ran one hand through his hair in frustration. "You know, I've got it on good authority that the two of us talk about things," he said lightly.

Apollo picked up his flight jacket from where he'd discarded it earlier, suddenly uncomfortable with the mess he'd made. He shook it out and straightened the seams before hanging it on a convenient chair back.

"What's to talk about?" he said softly.

"Why don't we start with whatever's under that tunic that you don't want me to see," Starbuck answered.

When Apollo didn't answer, he moved toward him again, pulling him around to face him. Apollo's eyes remained averted. Starbuck reached for the tunic's closure, but Apollo's hand caught his.

"No," he said, the whisper strangling in his throat.

"Apollo--"

"I screwed up, Bucko," he said in a rush. At Starbuck's incredulous look, he added: "On Malea. I-I let things happen that shouldn't have."

"What do you mean?"

Apollo shook his head and went to turn away, only to find himself steered toward the couch. His knee bumped the low table in front of the seating unit and several of the game pieces on the Merella board fell. It was identical to the Merella set in his father's quarters, right down to the duplicate locations of the pieces, part of their on-going challenge. This particular match had been in process for a few sectons, now, with each of them making careful moves every so often. Apollo's hands moved automatically, setting the pieces back in their correct positions on each level.

Starbuck watched him for a moment, then commented, "If you moved your castellan to the mid-point on the second level, you could take that yeoman."

"If I do, he'll have the castellan within two moves and I'll need that to assault his high-priest's position on the top level," Apollo answered vaguely.

Starbuck squinted at the board. "His high-priest isn't on the top level."

Apollo smiled briefly. "It will be after the next four moves."

Starbuck shook his head as he settled them back into the cushions. "I don't know how you can play this game. What kind of board game can last for over a sectar?"

"We're both busy. We don't really have that much time to play, so we make a few moves when we can. An actual match only takes a few centars if we're not interrupted."

Apollo pulled away from Starbuck's side, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He sat there in silence for a few microns, staring at his steepled hands. Starbuck leaned forward as well, mirroring his lover.

"So..." he said, prompting.

Apollo squeezed his eyes shut. "I keep going over it in my head. Every step. It all seemed so reasonable at the time," he said, bewildered. "We had to go to Malea to meet at the trade commission offices. Alright, not a problem. No weapons allowed on the grounds of the trade offices, too many different species wandering in and out. We had to leave them in the shuttle. That seemed... reasonable enough, too. Only a single negotiator could meet with the trade official, a private conference..."

Starbuck shifted, not liking the picture that was forming.

"But when I look back on it now," Apollo continued, "I don't know how I could have allowed us to get into that position." He sat back and faced Starbuck.

"Starbuck, I let us get separated, unarmed, on an alien world with creatures we knew nothing about... How could I let that happen? What kind of commander--"

Starbuck's hand caught Apollo's.

"Hey, none of that," he scolded. He squeezed the hand under his tightly. "You still haven't told me what happened. Finish your story, then we can analyse to your heart's content."

Apollo nodded and drew a shuddering breath.

"I left Dietra and Cholla in the lobby with our gear and went into the conference room with one of the trade agent's assistants. He closed the doors and..." He shook his head again as if he was having trouble framing his thoughts. Apollo moistened his lips. "He told me to wait there. I sat in there for almost a centar, waiting, with the assistant standing by the door, not talking, before the Malandri trade agent finally got there. He came in with another assistant. He... he was rude. He didn't like us or our situation or how we presented ourselves. He said we were weak, that we'd fallen into our troubles by our own actions and wanted others to do the work of pulling us out. He thought that people in our position should be far more, um, humble, not trying to negotiate on an equal level with our betters."

Starbuck grinned, imagining Apollo's likely response. "I'll bet that went over well," he said.

"Yeah." Apollo stopped for a moment and plucked a game piece from the top level of the board, turning it slowly in his hand. "I decided there was no sense continuing with the negotiations at that point. They weren't critical, not after the Ellidians, and I didn't think... I didn't think the Malandri were worth the bother. I guess it showed in my attitude. I got up to leave and..." He broke off, clutching the game piece tightly in one shaking fist. "The guy at the door caught me with a sucker-punch. I walked right into it, never saw it coming. Knocked the wind right out of me. By the time I could breathe again..."

The harsh sudden movement that sent the Merella pieces flying caught Starbuck by surprise, but he caught Apollo's arm before he could do any more damage. For a centon, he thought Apollo was going to fight him, but then he slumped heavily towards Starbuck, shaking, his breathing harsh in the quiet room. He pulled Apollo tight against his chest trying to still the other man's quaking by sheer force.

Apollo whispered into the air so softly Starbuck had to strain to hear him. "My hands were bound behind me, and my tunic and boots were gone, and I fought, but they were larger and heavier and gravity was on their side... and then my legs... I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything. There was a video screen on the wall. It showed the image from the security monitors. I could see Dee and Cholla the whole time, whenever they turned me that way. They kept saying, they'd be happy to change negotiators at any time. I told them to go to Hades."

"Of course you did!" Starbuck said fiercely, finally finding his voice.

"They said it was... my decision," Apollo said, voice stronger. "I chose to let them..."

Starbuck shook him slightly. "Apollo, you didn't _choose_ anything, except to not endanger your team!"

Apollo pulled away from him and struggled to his feet, kicking at the table when it got in his way. He spun back around to face Starbuck.

"I'm the one who endangered them in the first place!" he shouted, furious. "I led us into that situation! God!"

"You were all maneuvered into that situation!" Starbuck shouted back, his own anger at the Malandri and frustration at his lover's pain flaring. "You weren't the only warrior there, Apollo!"

"I was in command! It was my decision to do whatever the Malandri asked, each and every time!"

"And like you said, each and every time, what they asked was reasonable. Dietra was there as well, and if she had had any problems with what was going on, Apollo, believe me, she'd have said so. You've both done first contact negotiations in the past; neither of you saw it coming. Lords, who would? It was their planet. You had to play by their rules!"

"We shouldn't have been there in the first place," Apollo said mournfully, most of the fight gone out of his tone.

"What? Why?"

"We didn't need them. We'd done well enough with the Ellidians. We should have just kept on going."

"What? Until we really did need the next ones? Wait until people were actually going hungry before stopping to trade again? You already argued this one, Apollo! We can't always negotiate from a position of weakness. We can't wait until we need them."

"I was wrong."

Starbuck closed his eyes and took a breath before continuing in a calmer tone. "You weren't wrong, Apollo."

Apollo stood in the middle of his quarters, surrounded by fallen game pieces and shook his head mutely. Starbuck rose and closed the distance between them, pulling Apollo to him again.

"There has to be something, Starbuck," Apollo said softly, and the helplessness in his tone made Starbuck's chest ache. "There has to have been something, some way I could have... there has to be."

Starbuck shushed him gently.

"I was wrong, Starbuck. It doesn't matter what we do, we'll always be negotiating from a position of weakness."

"That's not what you thought before," Starbuck reminded him.

"It is now."

Starbuck was silent for several centons.

"Where's Boxey?" he asked finally.

Apollo stirred in his arms. "With Athena, why?"

"Because I'm staying here tonight," he replied simply.

"Starbuck--"

"It doesn't matter. I'm staying."


	3. Chapter 3

Staring at the resolutely shut and locked door, Starbuck realized they were back to square one. Apollo had allowed him to stay the night, had lain with him silently in his bed, even allowed him to hold him for a while during a sleep period in which neither man had actually slept, then just as quietly chivvied him out the door for his duty period, closing it firmly behind the lieutenant. He'd arrived back at Apollo's quarters just moments before and keyed in the familiar code, only to find it had been changed in his absence.

He pounded once on the door in frustration.

"Apollo!"

A passing crewman slowed and gave the lieutenant an odd look.

"Just visiting a sick friend," Starbuck excused himself. He watched as the man continued around the next corner before pounding on the still-closed door again. "Apollo, open up!"

"He's not there, Starbuck," Cassiopea's voice called out from behind him.

He swung around, one hand resting on the door. "Cass? What?"

"Apollo had an appointment with Dr. Salik this afternoon. I don't think they're finished yet." She dimpled up at him and waved a small datapad. "He asked me to drop by and pick up some things for Boxey. I think he was getting rid of me so he could talk with Salik privately."

"Apollo's good at make-work," Starbuck answered agreeably. "You should try working for him some time."

He paused while Cassiopea reached past him and keyed in a code.

"He didn't say anything about an appointment. Where's Boxey going?"

"Just to a friend's for a sleep-over."

The door slid open obediently.

Starbuck stared as she walked past him and into the captain's empty quarters. He caught the door before it slid shut completely and followed her.

"When'd he give you his code?"

"Just a few centons ago. I thought you already had it," she called from Boxey's room.

"So did I," Starbuck muttered. He glanced around the room. The Merella set was back where it belonged, all pieces, he was certain, right where they should have been. The table was straight, the couch cushions smooth and in place. Last night might never have happened at all, he thought.

"What was that?"

He had started for Apollo's bedroom only to stop when Cassiopea emerged from Boxey's bedroom on the opposite side of the main room, a small duffel bag in hand. She set it on the small dinette table and fought for a moment with a recalcitrant closure.

"Um, I said he must have changed it," Starbuck said.

"Hmm."

She fought with the closure for a few microns longer before Starbuck went to her rescue.

"Here. It's got a little..." he paused and held the bent clasp at an angle and it caught readily. He slid it back to her.

"My hero," she teased, smiling up at him.

"Yeah," he said diffidently. "Apollo can't get it shut, either."

Something in Starbuck's manner caught Cassiopea's attention.

"Starbuck, I'm sure Apollo just hasn't gotten around to giving you the new door code yet," she tried, fishing for whatever had her former lover in his current mood.

He just looked back at her unnervingly. For the first time since they'd met, she wasn't sure what to make of him.

"Starbuck," she sighed. She motioned to one of the dinette chairs and he automatically pulled one out for her, waiting until she'd settled before moving to the next one. She smiled briefly. For all their difference in upbringing, Starbuck's manners were far better ingrained than Apollo's. They had probably been more necessary to survival for Starbuck, she mused.

"I don't know how much Apollo has told you..."

"Pretty much all of it," Starbuck interrupted. He glanced up for her reaction and shrugged at the surprise in her expression. "As much as he's going to tell anyone, anyway."

"Oh," she said softly.

He eyed her for a moment, drumming his fingers against the table top absently. "You seem surprised."

"Well, yes," she answered. "Yes, I am a bit. I really didn't think he'd choose to ever tell anyone he didn't absolutely have to."

"Not even me?" he asked, rapping his knuckles lightly on the cool surface.

"Especially not you," she said with a gentle smile. She reached out and took his hand in her own. "At least not so soon. He regards you very highly, Starbuck."

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

"I guess I didn't really give him a choice," he said. "About telling me, I mean. I kind of forced the issue last night."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, so settled for another, "Oh."

"I was irritated," he said defensively. "He'd been avoiding me for days. When he didn't answer the door I let myself in and... I guess I caught him in a moment of weakness or something."

"Oh, Starbuck."

He looked at her distressed face and made a decision.

"He practically shoved me out the door this morning. He didn't say anything about changing his door code," he said, more roughly than he'd intended, but he thought she'd understand what he was really saying.

She didn't disappoint him. She squeezed his hand more tightly. "Oh, my. You and Apollo?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding almost shyly.

"How long?"

"About three sectars," he shrugged.

She nodded her acceptance. The time frame was well after she and Starbuck had ended their affair.

"Alright. Well, I knew there was someone... There's not much I can tell you that's specific to Apollo," she said carefully.

"I know that," Starbuck assured her.

"I can tell you that I'm not all that surprised that he's making little changes to his personal routines."

He shot her a questioning look.

"His hair, the door code, that sort of thing. It's really quite a healthy response," she said.

"Locking me out is healthy?"

"Maybe not, but I don't know that's what was intended. You'll have to ask him about that," she answered. "But, taking charge, asserting control over his environment, that is healthy. In an environment that is as heavily regimented as the Galactica's," she continued more carefully, keeping her tone and references neutral. "There isn't really much room for an individual to assert control in this environment, but that need is almost always present in someone who has had that control taken away. One can't change the way one dresses, for instance, or easily change living quarters, but changing a hairstyle or door code is easily done within regulations and serves the same purpose."

"He always was a bit of a control freak," Starbuck quipped.

Cassiopea chose to take it literally. "That may be somewhere in there as well," she said. "But this is really quite common behavior for rape victims."

She watched as Starbuck flinched from that bald statement. Her socialator's training in this sort of thing had been very limited and hadn't been focused on dealing with the secondary effects of sexual trauma on family and friends of the victims. She allowed herself a moment of regret that she hadn't gotten around to going back for more than the basic psychology training offered to all socialators, but she'd been very young before the Destruction and sexual psychology hadn't really interested her as much as the glitter and glamour of the Haetara training. She hadn't believed herself a healer by temperament and although her training mistress, Lys, had often stressed the necessity of understanding the rationale behind human behavior and interactions, Cassiopea had tended to tune out the older woman's more in-depth discussions on the topic. Now, with Lys dead and turned to dust along with so many others on Gemon, Cassiopea wished more than ever for her guidance.

"Starbuck, you've got to realize that this isn't going to be resolved quickly. It's going to take time, maybe a very long time," she warned him. "Apollo is going to have a lot on his hands just dealing with his own needs. He very likely will not have the time or energy to deal with yours as well."

"Of course not, I don't expect--"

Cassiopea shook her head. "I'm not saying that I think you'd be selfish, Starbuck. It's just that you've got to realize right now that this isn't just going to affect Apollo; it's going to affect you and Boxey, his family... everyone who comes into contact with him will be affected in some way, if only indirectly. Not everyone will understand what's going on. Sometimes even he won't really understand. You're going to have to figure out what you're feeling and what you need and separate it in your own mind from his feelings and needs. It's something I've had to learn to do as a Medtech, and it's not easy." She glanced at the chronometer readout on the wall next to the telecom. "Listen, I've got to get back. I was supposed to bring this stuff back to the Life Center so Apollo could take it to Boxey after his appointment."

Starbuck stirred himself and rose with her.

"Sure, sure."

She sighed as she looked at him for a long centon and then leaned over to kiss his cheek. He glanced up, surprised.

"Listen, Bucko, if you need anything, even just to talk..."

"Thanks, Cass," he said warmly. "You'd better get back to the Life Center. I'll let myself out."

She turned back at the door. "I think it's really very good that he told you on his own. It sounds like he's willing to allow you to help, at least a little. Just... don't try to guess what's going on in his head."

Starbuck watched as the door slid shut behind her. Nearly a centar and a half later, the door slid back open.

"Starbuck..."

Starbuck looked up into Apollo's eyes and smiled at him.

"Hey," he said simply.

Apollo glanced around the room.

"Cassie let me in," Starbuck said.

"Yeah," Apollo said softly.

Starbuck patted the table in front of the chair in which Cassie had been sitting earlier. "Sit down, Pol."

"Starbuck..."

"Sit!" Starbuck closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then continued in a softer tone. "Please sit down, Apollo. We need to talk."

Apollo sat and laughed breathlessly. "That sounds ominous," he commented.

Starbuck pulled a face and shrugged. "Sorry."

"No problem," Apollo responded automatically. He rested his elbows on the table in front of him and studied his hands intently.

"Cassie and I had a little talk while she was here."

Apollo moved sharply next to him and Starbuck reached out and caught his hand for a micron to get his attention.

"Not about you -- at least not specifically. You know Cassie wouldn't do that," he scolded gently. "We were just talking, generally, you know? We're still friends, we do that."

"Alright," Apollo said. He clasped his hands and willed away the irritation that had flared briefly.

"One of the things she said, was that I shouldn't just assume I know what people are thinking, that I, ah, I need to ask. So, I'm asking."

"What?"

"Why did you change your door access code?"

"Oh." Apollo twisted around to look at the door blankly. He shook his head and turned back to Starbuck. "I-I'm not really sure. I just..."

He pushed the chair back and paced the area between the table and the door for a few microns. Starbuck watched him in unaccustomed silence.

"I got to thinking about how many people had my access code," Apollo continued after a while. "You know, over the yahrens, I've had to give it out a few times, and I've given it to friends and family. It's not that secure, really. I mean, some of those people aren't even on the Galactica anymore, and who knows who they could have given it to... I know, I know," he said to Starbuck's look. "It's not likely, but the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. I just thought, I can change it and start over, be more careful about who gets it. Then, of course, I forgot about Boxey's sleepover and had to turn around and give it to Cassie..."

"Apollo, she won't give it out, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know. I know that. I just..." Apollo shook his head and scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Starbuck nodded. "Alright, that's alright. But it leads me to another question."

Apollo turned back to look at him questioningly.

"Do you want me to have the new code?"

"Do you want it?" Apollo asked, suddenly nervous.

Starbuck stared at him. "What do you mean, do I want it? Of course, I want it. Why wouldn't I?"

Apollo threw out his hands and swung away to pace again. "I don't know! I just thought... after what happened... and after what I told you last night... I thought maybe..."

"You thought I wouldn't want..." Starbuck allowed the sentence to trail off. He moistened his lips and started again. "You thought I wouldn't want _you_."

Apollo stopped and addressed the corner of the room near the telecom. "Starbuck, I... Some mornings, I can't even look at myself in the mirror to shave. I just... I didn't want to presume that you..."

Apollo leaned back as Starbuck moved up behind him and wrapped his arms around his lover's waist. Starbuck rested his head against Apollo's and the tightness in Apollo's chest gave just a little. He blinked back moisture with a couple of deep breaths.

Starbuck's voice sounded softly in his ear.

"Alright, so we'll change the code again tonight. That way, no one has it but us and if anyone else needs it, they can just ask. Sound like a plan?"

Apollo nodded sightlessly around a swell of relief.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.

****************

Salik passed the medical scanner over Apollo's shoulder and nodded. A full secton of antibiotics and rest were having the desired results.

"Well, Captain, it looks like that infection is almost gone. I imagine the area's still tender, though."

"Yes," Apollo answered, pulling the tunic closed.

"It will be for a few more days, even with the dermal regeneration. You're still taking the antibiotics?"

Apollo nodded.

"How are you otherwise?" He cocked his head at his patient. "If you tell me you're 'good,' I'll have you admitted," he said dryly.

That actually got a chuckle out of the younger man.

"I'm... I'm doing alright, I suppose," Apollo answered thoughtfully. "The bruises are finally fading. I can't even see the ones on my wrists anymore."

"Good, good. How about the spotting?" Salik asked gently.

Apollo pulled a face and colored, embarrassed.

"The, ah, the astringent pads are helping with that. It stills itches sometimes."

Salik nodded again. "It will take a while for the fissure to close, Apollo. The muscles of the anus are pretty active throughout the day. This one wasn't serious, but I understand it's annoying. Of course, it goes without saying that the less stress you put on it, the quicker it will heal. I know you were sexually active before Malea..."

Apollo shifted uncomfortably.

"That... um... That hasn't been an issue," he muttered.

Salik studied the young man for a long moment.

"Alright. How's your stomach doing?"

"Better," Apollo answered, grateful for a less sensitive topic. "I was having a bit of trouble at first, but it's getting better now."

"Well, that's what happens when you kill off your stomach and intestinal flora by abusing the decon chambers," Salik said dryly.

Apollo winced. Giving his lover carte blanche to talk to his physician had made Starbuck feel more secure about their relationship, but had unexpectedly been the source of more than one irate lecture from said physician. Apollo had thought the vomiting was all psychological and Salik had agreed that some of it was, especially when it accompanied the panic attacks, but the doctor had made very certain that Apollo understood the dangers of over-decontamination.

"Holding down your meals?" Salik prompted.

Apollo nodded.

"When you eat them?" Salik asked.

A flash of irritation crossed the captain's face. Starbuck had been at it, again.

"I haven't been very hungry lately."

"Eat them," Salik ordered and made a quick notation on Apollo's chart while the captain rolled his eyes. "I understand you had your first couple of sessions with Dr. Farno."

Apollo sighed. "I went to them. Doc, are they really necessary?"

Salik straightened. "Well, that depends."

Apollo looked up hopefully.

"Do you ever want to sit in the cockpit of a Viper again?"

"Doc--"

Salik held up a hand to silence him. "I told you before, Apollo. I will not sign off on your return to flight duty until I'm satisfied with your state of mind, and I won't be satisfied until your councillor is satisfied."

Apollo nodded, chewing his lip. "Does it have to be Farno?"

"Oh? I thought you'd worked well with Farno in the past."

"I went to him once or twice, just after the Destruction. He was alright then, but now..." Apollo's voice trailed off hesitantly.

"Now?"

Apollo laughed softly. "It's kind of silly. I don't like the way he looks at me," he said. "Like it's all a waste of time. Like he doesn't believe a word I'm saying."

"Why do you think he wouldn't believe you?" Salik asked with a frown.

Apollo shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it's just me."

Salik nodded while he thought. The Galactica's complement of psychiatrists wasn't large, but Salik had selected Farno specifically. He was an older man, a fatherly type, a type to which Apollo typically responded well. Farno had a good reputation and was respected among his peers, but Salik also knew the man didn't have much experience with sexual assault victims, especially male victims; it was something the two doctors had discussed when Salik had approached him with Apollo's case. Salik felt confident about Farno, but if Apollo didn't...

"When's your next session?"

"Three more days."

Salik nodded. "Let me see what I can do. I'll talk to some of the physicians on other vessels, one of them may know of someone. You understand, there aren't many psychiatric doctors in the Fleet, Apollo. It may be that Farno is your best option."

"I appreciate that, Dr. Salik. Thank you," Apollo said.

"Hmm, yes. Well, here's something else you can thank me for, Captain," Salik said, striking his stylus against the data pad in his hand with a flourish.

"Oh?"

"Congratulations. You're fit for light duty."

"Thank you, Lords!" Apollo said reverently.

"I'm sending the orders to Colonel Tigh's office as we speak. Boring secton?"

"Doctor, you have no idea," Apollo laughed.

"Alright. Get out of my Life Center, Captain. But I want to see you back here in two sectons. Sooner, if anything else comes up."

"You got it, Doc."

Salik glanced up and chuckled softly. Apollo was already on his way out the door.

*****************

Conversation stopped as Apollo exited the turbolift. He settled his shoulders surreptitiously and stepped forward.

"Skipper! Welcome back!"

Thank the Lords for Jolly, Apollo thought as he returned the big man's greeting and the welcoming clasp of hand and arm. He hadn't been as certain of his reception as he would have liked to have been, as he would have been only sectons before. He traded greetings and jokes with some of the other pilots as well, part of him watching warily for some sign that any of them had somehow learned of his... what was that term Great-aunt Verys had used... his unfortunate encounter. In Aunt Verys' usage, those two words could mean anything from a skinned knee from tripping on the garden path to a triple termination with ritual overtones, neither of which was a random example. Verys had been more polite than precise, and thinking of her now made his smile feel just a bit more genuine. After a few more centons' conversation, Apollo relaxed a bit more. If anyone had heard anything they shouldn't have, he couldn't tell.

Dietra turned from her locker as he passed and nodded to him solemnly. He'd heard through the shipboard grapevine - or, rather, Starbuck - that Dietra wasn't particularly thrilled with him at the moment and would be wanting words. She had been waiting until he was back on duty to pin him down, but as soon as she returned from today's patrol he fully expected to see her in his office. He wasn't exactly living in dread of the moment, but he wasn't looking forward to it either. Now, he forced himself to stop when she approached.

"Dee," he greeted her seriously.

"Skipper," she acknowledged and he silently thanked her for it. Her next words confirmed his expectations. "I'd like to speak to you later, sir."

He nodded.

"Yes, I imagine you would. I'll be in my office most of the day," he said. "You're welcome to come by any time."

"Thank you, sir," she answered and picked up her flight helmet.

Apollo paused then called her back as she was leaving. "Lieutenant."

She turned.

"Bring Chol along, too, if you want," he said. Might as well get it all over with in one blow.

She smirked at him. "Oh, no, sir. I'll let you handle that one all on your own."

Apollo glanced away, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Right," he said softly.

"See you later, Apollo. Have a nice day," she called cheekily as she strode out of the room.

*****************

Salik slowly became aware of the figure standing in his open office door. He looked up and then stopped and leaned back in his seat.

"Commander. What brings you here?"

Adama entered the room slowly.

"I was hoping for a moment of your time, doctor."

"Always, Adama," Salik said warmly. He rose and crossed to close the door as Adama took advantage of the conference seating. He returned to his own chair and turned his attention to his visitor. "Now. What can I do for you?"

Adama frowned heavily at him.

"It's about Apollo," he said.

Salik nodded. "I see. What about him?"

"I understand you've returned him to duty."

"Yes, but light duty only. If he's sent you here to argue his case, you can forget it, Adama." He leaned back in his seat. "There's no way I'm putting that young man into the cockpit of a fighter, not any time soon."

"No, I understand. It's not that at all," Adama said with a heavy shake of his head. "No, I'm wondering just how certain you are that he's ready to return to duty."

"What? Don't you want him back?" Salik said lightly.

Adama looked surprised. "Of course, I do. I am concerned, however, about pushing him to do more than he's able."

"Is there something in particular you've noticed over the last secton that's worrying you?"

Adama almost laughed. "No, to be honest, doctor, I haven't seen Apollo since that first day after..." he waved a hand vaguely in lieu of finishing the thought. "He's found excuses to reject every overture I've made. Apollo's avoiding me and I'm not certain what to make of it."

Salik regarded the commander for a long centon. "Well, Adama, there's not much detail that I can give you regarding Apollo's treatment. Physically, he's fit for duty; emotionally... well, that's going to take some time. He won't be returning to full duty for some time, Commander. I don't think even he fully realizes that just yet. However, Dr. Farno is of the opinion that, given Apollo's personality, keeping him off-duty for too long would be counter-productive and I happen to agree. Your son isn't a man who idles well, Adama. He needs something to keep his mind occupied, to feel that he's contributing. A bit of hard work is probably the best thing for him right now.

"Now, as for whether or not he's avoiding you... That's something you're going to have to discuss with your son. Did something happen the last time you saw him?"

"I don't really know," Adama said, his tone bewildered. "We spoke about the... incident. I did ask Colonel Tigh to handle the disciplinary measures associated with it... I didn't feel... It was very shocking."

"Yes, it was," Salik said gently.

"I keep returning to that conversation. He was very stiff, very quiet. It wasn't like him."

Salik nodded. "Your son is a proud man, Adama, and for good reason. He has a lot to be proud of. Usually it's a source of strength, but in this instance, I'm afraid that pride may be working against him. He feels that he's failed badly, not only himself but you, and your opinion is very important to him, vitally important. He's feeling a lot of shame right now, a lot of anger with himself. On top of the natural reactions, he knows that he handled the situation unprofessionally and that's weighing on him as well. Much of Apollo's sense of himself is bound up in his role and duty as a Warrior and he's wrestling with a sense of having failed in that regard as well. He's being very self-critical right now and he's having a hard time realizing that others don't necessarily share those feelings. It's difficult for him."

Adama had bowed his head during Salik's speech, resting his forehead on steepled fingers. He looked up when the doctor finished.

"When I was a young man, stationed on the Galactica for my first deployment, serving under my father's command, there was a young Warrior in the same squadron with me named Flight Sergeant Tian. He was from one of Aquaria's agro-outposts. One secton, he was late reporting back from a furlon. He turned up centars late, battered, jumping at shadows. It soon became unofficial common knowledge that he had been... attacked... by a group of men while out drinking. So far as I know, they were never apprehended. Opinion on the incident, and on Tian himself, was varied and often cruel." Adama sighed and studied his hands. "I'm ashamed to say that I did nothing to help matters. I was young and very full of myself and I found the situation difficult to comprehend. I didn't know him well and I'm afraid I used the controversy as an excuse to pull away from him further. His work suffered, he was restricted from flight duty, but he never fully recovered. Finally, the ship's medical officer had no choice but to recommend him for discharge. Nearly a yahren later - I had transferred to the Atlantia by this time - I happened to run into a man who had known Tian and who had kept in touch with him. Tian had died within sectars of returning home. He had hanged himself in his father's barn."

Salik sighed softly. "I won't lie to you, Adama. I have my concerns about Apollo. As you say, he's a bit too quiet, too subdued. Almost passive, aside from a few sudden bursts of bad temper. I can assure you, he's being watched very closely - if perhaps a little over-zealously in some quarters."

He said this last with some amusement and Adama raised an inquiring brow.

"Starbuck," the doctor answered.

The commander smiled lightly. "Starbuck is a good friend. He and Apollo are very close."

Salik studied the older man, wondering whether the commander really knew just how close the two men were, but decided that was a subject best left between father and son.

"Adama, if you're worried about what Apollo's thinking, I would suggest that you take a leaf from Starbuck's book and ask him straight out. If he won't come to you, go to him."

*****************

"So, how'd it go?" Starbuck called as he walked in the door.

Boxey bounced across the room to meet him and wrapped himself around Starbuck's left arm and leg like a somewhat less evolved species of primate. Starbuck gamely swung his stiffened leg out to lumber across the room as Boxey chortled. Apollo glanced up from his dinner preparations and grinned at them lightly.

"It went," he said noncommittally. His mood faded a bit as he was reminded of that afternoon's visit to Salik's latest choice of psychiatric counselor, a Dr. Suleya from the Gemon Freighter.

Starbuck studied him with a practised eye as he worked on divesting himself of his giggling growth.

"You ever going back?" he asked as he triumphantly slid his arm free. The growth attached itself more vigorously to his leg and giggled harder.

"No," Apollo said and set the lid down on a dish rather firmly.

"Apollo--"

"I know. Boxey, come on, you're going to knock Starbuck off his feet in a centon."

"He's fine, Apollo," Starbuck said soothingly.

Apollo stopped and took a couple of deep breaths, willing away the rising irritation. His hands shook for a moment and he felt a flare of disgust. How was he ever going to get back to normal if he couldn't even control his reactions here at home? He took another couple of deep breaths as the tussle across the room turned into a wrestling match.

"There's one more name on the list. I've got an appointment with a Dr. Radha from the Rising Star for next secton," Apollo said once he'd returned to some semblance of control.

When no answer came beyond a few shrieks and thumps, he glanced across the room to where his guys were rolling around on the floor and smiled in spite of his moodiness. Although Apollo wasn't quite sure how it had happened, one good thing appeared to have come of the entire mess. Without really discussing it, Starbuck had practically moved in with him and Boxey during the past few sectons and the child seemed to have accepted the arrangement with equanimity. Boxey was thrilled to have another adult around the place, especially one more inclined to horse-play than his father, and so far there had been no awkward moments to explain away.

The rest of his family might be another matter, he feared.

"Don't borrow trouble," he muttered to himself with a shake.

The computer embedded into his desk in the corner bleeped, signaling the receipt of a text communique. He waded through the living-room battlefield and opened the communication program, calling over his shoulder to the combatants as he did.

"Hey, guys! Dinner's ready! Wash up!"

"Da-a-ad"

"A-po-o-llo!"

He grinned without turning. "Move it! Show some hustle, you two!"

Grumbling voices faded in the direction of the in-quarters head as he opened the new message. He jumped slightly when a shadow fell over his shoulder and cursed under his breath.

"Sorry," Starbuck murmured apologetically.

"No, I'm sorry," Apollo said tiredly. "I wish I could stop doing that."

Starbuck laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Anything good?" he asked with a nod toward the computer.

"It's from my father," Apollo said.

He hadn't heard much from Adama outside of work lately. Normally, that wasn't all that unusual. His father was a busy man and so was Apollo. They could go days without seeing each other outside of duty stations or speaking of anything more personal than the latest patrol deployment, but over the secton following the Malea mission, Adama had seemed an unwelcomely cloying presence in his life, although if he was being honest, Apollo knew that assessment was unfair. Objectively speaking, the commander had only tried to contact Apollo a few times, but it had come at a time when Apollo had wanted nothing more than to retreat into semi-seclusion for a bit. He'd just wanted to be left alone - or as alone as Starbuck and Boxey would allow - and he was afraid he'd probably rebuffed the old man a bit more firmly than he should have. Since his return to duty the secton before, Adama had seemed content with their brief conversations during duty periods, or perhaps he was simply treading carefully around his son. Apollo had the uncomfortable feeling that he owed his father an apology.

"Business or personal?"

Apollo glanced at the contents. "A bit of both, it looks like," he said. "Oh."

"What's 'oh'? Boxey, sit down," Starbuck said distractedly.

"We've been invited for dinner tomorrow evening."

"'We' as in all three of us, or 'we' as in you and Boxey?"

Apollo looked up at his lover, surprised.

"Apollo, unless you've been having some heart-to-heart discussions with Adama that I don't know about, he doesn't know about our... arrangement," Starbuck said patiently.

"Starbuck, you haven't slept in the BOQ in almost a sectar. Even Boomer's stopped calling to ask where you're going to be spending the night. My father's going to figure it out eventually," Apollo said with a laugh.

"Yeah, I know," Starbuck said with a self-deprecating shrug. "I just didn't know how far you wanted to push things at the moment, that's all."

Apollo stood up and raised his hands to cup Starbuck's face. Starbuck found himself holding his breath and then Apollo leaned in and brushed his lips gently across his lover's for the first time in sectons. It was just that bare touch, a feather-light movement against his welcoming mouth, but it was enough to send Starbuck's pulse soaring. Apollo leaned back and brushed Starbuck's hair off of his forehead with a small smile, then moved away towards the dinette.

"Boxey, don't be late getting home from instructional period tomorrow. You'll need to have your homework finished before the three of us go over to your grandfather's for dinner."

****************

_He couldn't move. God, he couldn't move. His arms were pinned and his legs... He kicked out, shifting the bindings around his ankles some but not enough to escape. He opened his mouth to shout but nothing came out. There was a heavy weight hot against his back and a band across his torso; they held him down, immobile. His lungs couldn't expand against the pressure. Long, hard fingers wrapped around his ankles and pushed them down against the bed. He thrashed disjointedly and a low-pitched moaning sound forced it's way out of his throat. _

"N-nn-!" Apollo jerked awake and thrashed his way into a sitting position. The sheets were twisted around his ankles; he kicked to free them. Starbuck shifted sleepily next to him as he gasped for breath.

"'Pol?"

"Go back to sleep, Starbuck," he whispered breathlessly.

"Dream?"

"Yeah. It's alright. Go back to sleep."

Starbuck grunted and rolled over, more than half asleep already.

Apollo stood on shaky legs and staggered into the washroom. There was a wet cloth in the bottom of the sink already from the previous evening and part of his mind silently scolded Boxey for leaving the mess even as he moistened it to scrub across his face. The cool moisture felt good against his heated skin and he waited, leaning on the counter, as his pulse slowed. He wouldn't be sleeping any more tonight.

He made his way quietly back to the bedroom and opened the closet to pull out some work-out clothes and changed as quietly as possible. Starbuck stirred again.

"Apollo?"

"Shh. I'm going for a little run," Apollo whispered. He sat down on the edge of the bed closest to his partner and started pulling on his running shoes. "If I'm not back, can you get Boxey ready for instructional period? Boomer and I have an early sparring slot at the gym this morning."

"Running?" Starbuck asked sluggishly. He leaned over and pulled his chronometer off the table and peered at it. "We don't have to be up for centars, Apollo."

"You still don't." Apollo sighed. "I'm not going to be able to sleep if I lay down again, Starbuck. I'm too keyed up."

Starbuck hitched closer and ran a hand along Apollo's lean thigh. "Maybe I can help with that," he offered softly.

Apollo froze for a micron and forced a soft chuckle. "Not that kind of keyed up, I'm afraid, Bucko," he answered dully. He caught Starbuck's hand in his and squeezed it before moving it to the mattress beside them. "Sorry."

Starbuck sighed and leaned against him.

"No, I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be," Apollo said, his chest tight. He squeezed Starbuck's hand again. "Get some sleep. I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Starbuck said softly.

Apollo set a slow and easy pace for the first few centons, allowing his muscles to warm up a bit before pushing them harder. As his feet pounded the corridor, he thought about Starbuck and his tentative offer. Only a short time ago, he'd have fallen into Starbuck's arms. Hades, a few sectons ago, Starbuck wouldn't have had to offer. This just wasn't fair. He wasn't being fair to Starbuck, keeping him here. He shook off the maudlin thoughts as he picked up the pace. Starbuck was right where he wanted to be, he told himself firmly. If he didn't want to be with Apollo, he'd tell him that. But still... Apollo made the turn that would take him to the outermost ring of corridors for his level and picked up the pace some more.

****************

Apollo looked up at the ceiling for a long moment, his breath rasping in his lungs. The weight on his legs rolled off and he shook sweat-soaked hair off of his forehead and craned his neck to peer at the dark, sweating face on the floor beside him.

"Is it just me, or is it hot in here?" he asked once he'd caught enough breath to speak.

Boomer laughed out loud, sounding breathless himself, and heaved up from the mat.

"It's at least fifteen degrees warmer than usual, but you do not get to complain, Apollo," he said with a grin. "This is all your doing."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes, Captain. I distinctly remember voicing some mild objections to this little training plan of yours."

Apollo stared at the hand that was lowered within his reach and made what felt like a supreme effort to lift his own hand to grasp it and lever himself into a more vertical position. He stood bent forward, hands on his knees and took a couple of more controlled deep breaths.

"How much longer?" he asked, glancing up at his grinning sparring partner.

Boomer grinned wider as his leg swiped out to catch Apollo behind the left knee, sending him back down to the floor with a grunt.

"Now, we're done," he said.

Apollo glared at him.

"Why are you still breathing?"

"Because if you killed me, you'd have to resort to shoving your paperwork off on Starbuck and he can't spell for felger."

"Oh, yeah." Apollo closed his eyes and concentrated on filling his lungs. This mat was nice. He might just stay here for a while. "Remind me to run a search of the personnel records for another pilot who can spell."

"Will do." He listened to Boomer's chuckle as his footsteps receded.

Another voice sounded nearby: "Captain! Clear the mat!"

He opened his eyes and glared at Ondrus' unrepentantly grinning face. Sheba and Bris were standing behind him, already in training gear. Both women were entirely too cheerful for his taste.

"I get the feeling you're all enjoying this," he complained as he shoved himself to his feet.

"Oh, we are," Sheba assured him. "We were doing this for a whole secton while you were lazing about on Life Center Relief."

He laughed and shook his head. Half-way to the locker room he turned back.

"Hey, Sheba!"

"Yeah?"

"Can you spell?"

"Only if you want your paperwork done in Gemonese."

"Damn."

Apollo stripped and hit the showers. At the next shower-head, Boomer shook the water out of his eyes and glanced quickly over and blinked.

"What?" Apollo asked tersely. He looked down at himself and cursed under his breath. He'd actually forgotten. Most of the physical damage caused by the Malandri attack had healed over the last few sectons, but the bruising on his abdomen had been dark and deep. The upper boundaries had yellowed and faded to almost nothing, but although the larger mass of pooled blood had settled a bit lower over time, it was still visible as a darker stain across his belly. Of course, Boomer would see it straight off.

"Apollo--"

"It's not as bad as it looks," Apollo said, hoping to stem off anything more.

"Not as bad as... Apollo, if I'd known you were injured, I wouldn't have been tossing you around out there!"

"It's nothing, Boomer! It's not even sore anymore," Apollo said irritably.

"That is not nothing! When did you get-- Malea," Boomer said, staring openly now. "Damn it, Apollo, I thought you said nothing happened?!"

Apollo closed his eyes and leaned against the cool tile wall of the shower. Steam was rising in the room around them; the humidity and the sound of falling water made him shudder before he could stop himself. His breathing quickened.

"Apollo?"

He opened his eyes and stared at Boomer for a moment as if he didn't recognise him, then blinked and shook his head quickly. He forced a laugh. "Sorry. Zoned out for a centon, there. Must be low blood sugar or something."

Boomer snapped off the shower with an angry movement.

"Blood sugar, my astrum! What was that?"

Apollo looked around the open communal shower and shook his head. "Not here, Boom-boom," he pleaded and felt a sudden wave of revulsion at the tone he heard in his voice. He straightened and pushed himself away from the wall's support. "We're due on duty in half a centar," he said firmly, sounding more like himself to his own ears.

"Alright," Boomer said with a grim-faced nod. "We're due on duty, so we'll go to the Duty Office. And then we'll have ourselves a little meeting."

Apollo studied Boomer's resolute expression for a moment before admitting defeat.

"Yes, alright," he said, resigned.

The walk to the Duty Office was grim and silent. Apollo took over from a Bojay who seemed almost wary of him, but was too distracted by Boomer's mood to think much about it.

Bojay leaned back around the door on his way out. "Apollo, you're going to want to read that latest communication from Colonel Tigh first thing. It just came in a few centons ago."

"Yeah, thanks," he said.

Boomer closed the door as Apollo moved to open the communication Bojay had mentioned.

"Malea," Boomer reminded him grimly.

"Malea." Apollo sighed. He looked away. "Malea got... a little rough, Boomer."

"Who used you for a punching bag?"

Apollo laughed without feeling. "A couple of really big guys."

"Dietra said you were separated from them for a while. Was that when it happened?"

"Yes. Listen, Boomer... Yes, I got knocked around a little. I misjudged the situation badly on Malea. I tried to break off negotiations early and violated their protocol. Things got a little rough and I got the wind knocked out of me. It spooked me a bit, I guess." He shook his head. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, and I'm really sorry that I dragged Dietra and Cholla into it. I've already apologized to both of them. But, no one got hurt but me and we all got out of there without further incident. Let's just chalk this one up to experience and move on, alright? I've already drafted my recommendations for changes to the first contact protocols, they'll be going to Tigh and my father as soon as..."

His eyes focused on the text of Tigh's message and the air left his lungs in a rush.

"What in Hades?" he whispered.

"Apollo?"

Boomer was suddenly at his side. Apollo pushed his friend's supportive hand away roughly as he transferred the information to a portable data pad and stabbed at the console to close the communication program down.

"I'll be in the Colonel's office," he said abruptly and left, not waiting for a reply.

At the door, he brushed by Starbuck without a word.

"Apollo?" Starbuck looked back into the office. "Boomer? What's going on?"

Boomer was bent over the computer console, recalling the message Apollo had closed. He read it quickly, then re-read it and sat back. He thought about Apollo's behavior over the last few sectons, his evasiveness, his _zoning out_... about a secton's unexplained Life Center Relief. Apollo had gone dead pale when he read this message; he'd thought the man was going to hit the floor for a centon, there.

"That son of a daggit," he said softly. "That makes twice Apollo has stood in this office and lied to my face."

****************

"What in Hades is this?!"

Tigh leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, Captain?" he asked pointedly.

Apollo pulled himself up abruptly. "Begging the colonel's pardon, sir. My apologies," he said crisply.

"Accepted. Now, what in Hades is what?"

"This 'supplemental training series' you've got scheduled for my pilots?" Apollo's voice rose again. He read the titles off of the data pad in his hand. "'Sexual Assault Prevention and Awareness,' 'Sexual Assault in a Military Context,' 'Understanding the Aftermath of Sexual Trauma.' Sir, what are you trying to do to me?!"

"I'm not trying to do anything to you, Apollo. A serious gap was recently exposed in our warriors' training. I'm trying to fill it."

"I wasn't consulted."

"Sit down, Apollo."

Apollo hesitated for several microns, torn between acceptance and the need to pace out his anxiety. Tigh waited until the warrior was seated to continue.

"No, you weren't consulted. It wasn't necessary. Dr. Salik recommended the supplemental training and Commander Adama and I approved it while you were still on Life Center Relief. It isn't just for the pilots, Apollo. Everyone on the ship will be getting some version of this information. The Life Center personnel have already received new training in handling their patients..." Tigh shifted uncomfortably. "I would think you'd welcome this, Captain. Dr. Salik mentioned that there was an... incident involving one of his doctors."

Apollo flinched and refused to meet his eyes.

"Salik was grateful for your restraint, by the way," Tigh said dryly. "He said he would have decked him."

When Apollo didn't respond, he shifted again. "Apollo, look at this from my perspective. I have an officer under my command, one on whom I've come to rely, who was brutalized during a mission in a way that, considering the nature of our historic enemies, wasn't anticipated by our training. He's been traumatized by the experience and I'm frankly not certain he's handling it all that well."

Apollo looked up at that, stricken.

"I have more than three thousand other crewmen and warriors to think about, Apollo. Now that I know the danger exists, it's my duty as their commanding officer to prepare them for whatever they may encounter, wouldn't you agree?"

Apollo licked his lips before speaking. "Yes, sir. I just... I was hoping to keep this private, Colonel."

"What makes you think it won't remain private? I certainly don't intend to stand up and give anyone your name."

"You're joking, right?" Apollo asked, incredulous. "These are bright guys, Colonel. They know something's up with me and now this... It's not going to take them long to put it together."

He suddenly remembered the look on Bojay's face less than a centar earlier.

"If they haven't already," he amended, feeling sick. "I-I'm worried about what this will do to morale..."

Tigh snorted. "Don't you mean what it's already doing to morale?"

"Sir? I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary."

"I know you haven't, Captain," Tigh said sharply. "That's another thing we need to discuss. Apollo, you can't spend the rest of your career holed up in your office. You know, a sectar ago, I never knew where to find you. I had to use your summoner. These past two sectons, if you're not on the bridge, I know exactly where you are. You don't go anywhere without orders in triplicate. I've seen more paper coming out of your office in the past two sectons than I saw in the previous three sectars. Whatever happened to delegating?"

"Do you have a complaint about the quality of my work, Colonel?" Apollo challenged. He knew his tone was bordering on insolence, but for the micron he couldn't find it in him to care.

"Not a complaint, no - at least not yet," Tigh snapped. He sighed. "Apollo, it's just not _you_. Damn it, man, I'm worried about you."

Apollo had no idea what to say to that, none at all.

****************

Starbuck stared at Boomer for a long centon, then entered the room and closed the door.

"What did he tell you?"

"This time you mean?" Boomer scoffed. "This time, he told me that the Malandri beat him up a little. I happened to see the bruises on his gut in the shower, or I doubt he'd have told me that much."

Starbuck nodded, looking a bit pale. He sat down in the nearest chair and looked at the floor. "What makes you think he lied?"

Boomer silently clicked a few buttons and sent the message to the large display used for section meetings.

Starbuck flinched as he read it. "Sagan, he'll hit the ceiling," he said. He was grateful when Boomer clicked another button and shut off the display. He sat back up and faced his old friend. "He didn't exactly lie, Boomer. He just--"

"Left a glaring omission?" Boomer said tartly.

"Can you blame him?"

"Yes! Yes, I can! For the Lords' sake, Starbuck, we're friends, why wouldn't he..." Boomer paused and groaned. "Tell me this isn't another of those Caprican Heroic Culture things."

"You've been reading anthropology texts again," Starbuck accused, then shrugged. "Sometimes I forget you're from Leonis."

"Sometimes I wish I'd never left," Boomer declared in disgust. "So, what? He's doing the whole square-jawed, silent, carrying the universe around on his mighty shoulders thing again?"

"Boomer..."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't seen you around much, that's all. You haven't been to the Officer's Club, the Rejuvenation Center or the Triad courts. You only hit the gym when you're scheduled. What gives?"

"I've been spending a lot of time with Apollo and Boxey."

"Uh-huh," Boomer said. He stared at the other man for a few centons. Over the yahrens, Boomer had learned that Starbuck was uncomfortable with silence. He always felt the need to fill it, eventually, and he didn't always stop to censor what he said. Boomer had gotten some of his best information out of Starbuck through the judicious use of silence.

Starbuck didn't disappoint him. "I don't know what to do for him, Boom-boom," he said. "One centon he's fine, the next he's either off in some other world, or throwing something across the room. One day, he won't let me get two metrons away from him, the next I'm smothering him. Last night was great, he was almost like his old self. Then this morning he had another nightmare... I don't know how to help him, except by just being there. "

"Is he seeing a counselor?"

"He's seen several. None have met his exacting standards, yet," Starbuck said with an ironic lilt. He sighed. "He's going to have to pick one, though, and soon. Salik's put his foot down. He won't let him return to flight duty until he's seeing someone and they give the all-clear."

Boomer whistled softly. "He's that bad?"

Starbuck blinked rapidly. "Yeah. Yeah, Boomer, he is," he said thickly.

"And how are you doing?"

"I'm just trying to keep up with what he wants from centon to centon."

"What about what you want, my friend?"

Starbuck cracked out a savage laugh. "Boomer, what I want is a laser rifle and a trip back to Malea to hunt down the things that did this to him. What I want is a fracking landram packed so full with solenite that the fracking side panels are bulging so I can run it right through the front doors of that God-forsaken trade commission office and blow it into the next realm! But more than that, I want Apollo back."

At that moment, the door chimed and slid back to reveal the topic of conversation himself, face pale and set. He stopped dead just inside the doorway, staring at the two of them. Starbuck's stomach clenched at the thought of what Apollo must be able to read on both their faces.

"Apollo." Boomer rose to meet him, but Apollo ignored him.

Apollo stared at Starbuck, green eyes wide and accusation clear in his expression.

"Apollo, he saw the message from Tigh. He figured it out on his own."

Apollo shook his head in denial or rejection. He turned around without a word.

"Damn it, where are you going?!" Starbuck snapped, suddenly angry in his frustration.

Apollo hesitated for a micron. "The Colonel says I need to get out of the office. I'm getting out," he said angrily and walked away.

Boomer tried to stop Starbuck before he could follow. "Let him go, Bucko. Let him cool off for a while."

Starbuck shook him off and caught up with Apollo at the elevator. He tugged his lover around to face him, but Apollo pulled free with a jerk.

"Not now, Starbuck," he said harshly.

"Damn it, Apollo--"

"I said, not now!" Apollo shouted.

Heads turned along the corridor as the captain swung around and strode furiously away.

******************

Starbuck paced the width of the corridor for a few centons, ignoring curious glances. He couldn't remember being this nervous. Boomer had tried to talk him into going to the Officer's Club instead, but he hadn't seen Apollo since that morning, although word regarding the captain had been filtering through the office all day. Thank the Lords, Starbuck hadn't been scheduled for patrol duty; he didn't want to think about having to spend the day trapped in a Viper. Sagan, he did have it bad, the day he started thinking of flying as being trapped...

He took a deep breath and keyed in the door code. He felt a wave of relief when the door slid open with a cheery beep; he hadn't realized just how worried he'd been that it wouldn't.

Apollo and Boxey both looked up from their positions at the dinette table. Boxey grinned at him happily and started to shove his homework into the satchel he used for instructional period.

"We're going to Grandfather's for dinner!" the child announced happily.

"Yeah, that's right," Starbuck replied, never taking his eyes off of Apollo.

"Boxey, you're ready to go. Why don't you and Muffit go on ahead? I need to speak to Starbuck alone. We'll meet you there."

"Alright, come on, you daggit," Boxey said. The boy ran to the door, the daggit drone ambling along in his wake. "Bye, Starbuck! See you later!"

"Bye, kid," Starbuck called after him.

The door had barely slid shut behind the child, when Starbuck found himself pressed back against it and Apollo pressed against him. Apollo's mouth closed over his urgently. Lords, but it had been too long, too long, and Starbuck felt a soft moan deep in his throat as he lips slid open and time stopped. Then Apollo was moving his lips across Starbuck's face, peppering his jaw up to the ear with small kisses, murmuring nonsense the whole time. Apollo leaned back just enough to allow him to look Starbuck in the eye.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Apology accepted," Starbuck said softly. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have been talking about this stuff with Boomer without asking you."

Apollo leaned forward again, resting his head alongside Starbuck's. "You shouldn't have to ask permission to talk to your friends. So what's Boomer got to say?"

Starbuck turned his head and kissed Apollo's temple softly. "He's pissed that you lied to him, he's upset that you didn't trust him with something this important, and he's very annoyed with something he's calling the 'Caprican Heroic Culture.'"

"Boomer needs to stay away from the anthropology books. They always get it wrong." Apollo mouthed the nearest bit of Starbuck's neck for a bit. "I've been an equinus' astrum all day," he complained softly.

Starbuck chuckled. "So I've heard," he said.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come home."

"Where else would I go?" Starbuck said matter-of-factly, then moved his head to capture Apollo's lips in a gentle kiss before his sometimes literal-minded lover could spoil his romantic rhetorical gesture by answering.

Apollo pulled away gently and slid his hands along Starbuck's arms. "I mean it, Starbuck. I'm really sorry for the way I behaved today... the way I've been behaving." He turned away and paced a few steps. "I've been out of control for sectons. God, sometimes I think..."

Starbuck closed the distance between them again and pulled Apollo close.

Apollo chuckled. "You must think I'm insane," he said softly.

"No. I've never thought that, Apollo. Not for a micron."

Apollo swept his hands across his lover's back and whispered earnestly, "It won't happen again. I promise you."

******************

Adama fingered the long stem of his glass absently, allowing his children's conversation to ebb and flow around him. He smiled to himself. It was odd how quickly he'd come to regard Starbuck as one of his children. Over the previous few yahrens, the irrepressible warrior had wormed his way right into Adama's tight family unit, filling a space he'd never realized existed, or maybe it hadn't before Starbuck created it for himself. He looked across the table to where Apollo was sitting quietly, the fork in his left hand distractedly moving the chopped vegetables from side to side.

"You're quiet tonight, son."

Apollo looked up, his eyes unfocused for a moment. He straightened in his seat.

"I'm sorry, father. I've had a lot on my mind lately," he said diffidently.

Adama looked away. "Yes," he said softly.

Apollo started and drew in a breath. "Actually, father, there was something I wanted to discuss with you."

"Oh? The training series? Colonel Tigh said you had voiced some objections to it this morning." Adama sat back and regarded his son. "To be honest, I was a little surprised at that."

Apollo flushed. He looked back at his plate and ran one finger along the silver-painted edge. "The colonel and I discussed that, yes. I still think my warriors' time could be better spent, sir, but I understand your and the colonel's reasoning. But, no, father, that wasn't what I wanted to talk about."

Athena and Starbuck had fallen silent while Apollo had been speaking, and now Apollo raised his head to find Starbuck watching him intently. Athena looked from one man to the other and raised her glass to hide her sudden grin. Apollo rolled his eyes at his sister, exasperated and suddenly remembering a comment from a few sectons ago.

"Athena, of course, has her own sources of information," he commented wryly. "Let me guess, you sat and looked at him for a few centons, right?"

Athena laughed out loud and Starbuck blushed.

"Buddy, we have got to talk about your resistance to interrogation," Apollo complained.

"Or lack thereof," Athena choked out.

Starbuck grinned but his voice was serious when he replied, "You know I'll never say a word when it counts, Apollo."

Apollo held his gaze and inclined his head solemnly. "I know that."

"Would someone like to say a word to me?" Adama complained into the pregnant silence.

Apollo took a deep breath. "Well, father..." He paused suddenly uncertain. He glanced over at Boxey, who was industriously packing his cheeks with mutilated dinner roll, and grinned.

"Previous observations on my slowness aside, I do have an announcement. Starbuck and I..." He paused and then looked his father in the eye. "There's been a change in our living arrangements, father."

"Has there?" Adama cast a sharp glance at Starbuck.

The lieutenant's eyes never left Apollo's face.

"Yes, sir. He's moved in with me and Boxey. I... I hope he wants to make it permanent."

Starbuck grinned and Adama's vaguely formed doubts faded in the face of what he read there.

"Well, then," he said. He paused and nodded. "Very well."

Both young men blinked in surprise.

"That's it?" Apollo asked sharply.

Adama looked up at his son, expression innocent. "Well, what did you expect, Apollo?"

Starbuck smirked at Apollo's gaping silence. "I think he had it all worked up in his head, sir. You know how he is."

"Yes," Adama said with grave dignity. "Yes, I certainly do. Have I ever told you about the time when he was, oh, about fifteen or so--"

"Father!"

Adama and Starbuck studied Apollo for a micron.

"Another time, sir," Starbuck suggested.

"Perhaps you're right," Adama conceded.

Apollo glared at his lover and father with a fair amount of dislike. Athena laughed and rose to give Apollo a quick hug.

"It's alright, big brother," she teased. "I always knew I was just keeping him warm for you."

"Athena!"

"Lords, 'Thena!"

"Good Lord," Adama muttered.

******************

It was late before Adama finally bade his children good night. All three of them, he thought with a bittersweet smile, silently acknowledging the twinge of regret that it couldn't have been all four. As he walked through the main living area one last time, his eye fell on the multi-tiered Merella board and noticed a change. At some point in the evening, Apollo's high-priest had moved from the second tier to the fifth, cutting an unexpected swath through Adama's position on that tier and leaving his castellan in an unexpectedly perilous position. He raised an eyebrow and nodded past an unexpected swell of emotion.

Well, then, he hadn't realized he'd left that opening. He'd have to study this more closely.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh, come on, Captain! You've got to be kidding! Sensitivity training?" Jolly moaned theatrically.

Apollo had been steeling himself all morning to be able to make the announcement himself and he answered the warrior a bit more sharply than he'd intended. "Yes, Jolly! Sensitivity training! Join the Colonial Fleet and learn to relate!"

"Yeah, Jol," Starbuck piped in. "Didn't your recruiting officer have that brochure?"

"Jolly's recruiting officer didn't bother with the ones without pictures," Greenbean called from his seat a few metrons away. "He just pointed to the posters until Jolly told him he'd hit the right one."

"Oh, very funny, 'Bean," Jolly whined.

Apollo took a steadying breath. "Listen, guys, I don't like it any better than you do, but the word has come down from on high, so we're doing it."

Dietra gave him a surprised look. "Easy, there, Captain," she said.

Apollo scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I'm kind of tired this morning, I'm letting it affect me more than it should."

"Well, I think it's a great idea," Giles put in. Several pairs of eyes turned to look at him. "No, really. I dated this girl once back when I was stationed on Libra. She'd been assaulted on a college campus, by one of the professors, no less. I know what it put her through and it had happened more than a yahren before we even met. She ended up having to change schools to finish her degree. He was some kind of big muckety-muck on campus and the Board of Regents wouldn't touch him. He kept harassing her when she tried to press charges through the legal system. When I knew her, she was still having nightmares almost every night."

"What happened to her?" Apollo asked, struggling for a normal tone.

Giles shrugged. "She was accepted into a graduate program on Cancera and my assignment on Libra ended about the same time. We wrote for a few sectars, but we lost touch after a while. You know how it is, Apollo."

"Yeah, I know how it is," Apollo muttered distractedly. He glanced up and caught Starbuck's light grin.

"Guess that's something you'll never have to worry about, huh, Cap'n," Barton drawled.

"Excuse me?"

The lanky blond pilot waved a hand between him and Starbuck. "I mean, two guys..." he said in a reasonable tone. "That sort of thing never happens to guys. I mean, not guys like us, anyway. It's a girl thing."

"'A girl thing?'" Dietra said, incensed. "I'll show you a girl thing, Barton!"

Apollo stared for a moment and Starbuck stiffened. Then Apollo shook his head slowly.

"Leaving aside for the moment the fact that you seem to think my personal life is an appropriate topic for discussion, Barton, if that's the way you men are thinking, maybe Colonel Tigh is on to something, after all," he said, surprised to find his voice steady. He nodded to the collected group to excuse himself. "Gentlemen, Ladies."

"My friend Marna said the whole thing started in Life Center a few sectons ago," Bris commented. "She works in the pathology lab, but she has a cousin with Council Security who was there at the time. She says there was some kind of ruckus on the night shift, but he won't give her any details. Says he's too afraid of Dr. Salik."

"Smart man," Starbuck said with an odd gleam in his eye. He kept glancing toward Apollo, who had stopped dead on his way back to his office.

"Any way," Bris continued. "Everyone in Life Center had to do this kind of sensitivity training, and..." She leaned in avidly. "Dr. Paye is undergoing administrative review."

"That's enough, Lieutenant," Apollo snapped impatiently. "You know better than to spread gossip."

He strode stiffly into the office and Starbuck rose to follow, only to be sent back to his seat by a look from Boomer, who had been listening quietly. Boomer gave Apollo a couple of centons, then sauntered in behind him.

Apollo was standing and staring blankly at the top of the desk, his hands braced on its surface. He started slightly when Boomer spoke.

"You alright?" Boomer asked softly.

Apollo looked up into his friend's dark eyes and found the same quiet acceptance he'd always found. He swallowed roughly.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm alright."

"Felger," Boomer said.

"I'll be alright in a bit, then," Apollo amended. He closed his eyes and took a couple of long breaths. "Listen, Boomer, it's kind of quiet today. Do you think you and Starbuck can handle things around here for a bit?"

"Sure," Boomer replied calmly. "Where you gonna be?"

"I think I'll head over to the gym for a while. Run off some steam on the treadmills."

"That sounds like a good idea, Apollo. I'll let Starbuck know."

Apollo straightened and smiled wanly. "Thanks, Boomer."

****************

The blaring of the klaxon woke them both with a start. Apollo's summoner trilled at the same moment.

"frak! Move it!" Apollo snapped needlessly as he and Starbuck rolled out of bed and struggled into pressure suits and uniforms.

They passed Boxey, standing in the doorway to his bedroom, and Apollo paused.

"It's an alert, Boxey, you know what to do. Stay here with Muffit until someone from the family gives you the all-clear."

"Yes, sir," the child answered as Apollo and Starbuck rushed out the door.

At the turbolifts, Apollo remembered.

"Felgercarb! I can't launch! I have to go to the bridge... Tell Boomer!" he called as he changed course and headed for the turbolift that would take him to Command.

"I will! Get moving!" Starbuck called and ran to grab one of the others.

****************

"I've been looking over the notes made by your previous counselors - thank you for that, by the way."

"No problem. Anything that will speed things along at this point," Apollo said firmly.

"In a hurry, Apollo?" Radha asked with a smile.

"Yes, actually, I am," he acknowledged, voice emphatic.

Radha leaned back in her chair. "You seem upset. Has something happened recently?"

Apollo studied his hands as he spoke: "We had an alert yesterday."

"Yes, I know."

"My squadrons had to launch without me," he said bitterly. "My pilots were out there protecting the fleet, risking their lives, and I was standing around in Command with my thumb up my astrum. I should have been _out there!_ I was on my way to the launch bay before I remembered that Salik grounded me and I had to go to the bridge instead."

"What happened after you got to the bridge?"

"I was up there, organizing the defensive lines via communicator and the commander turned around and started to give me leave to join them and then he remembered, too..."

"That must have been very frustrating for you."

He laughed sharply. "You could say that, yes. Very. I'm fraking useless like this. I want my wings back."

"Were there any casualties?"

"No. Turned out it was just a group of the local boys testing us with a feint. It was kind of half-hearted on their part. We scorched their wings a little and they took off." He shrugged. "It happens from time to time. We'll post extra patrols for a while just to be sure, but they shouldn't bother us again.

"But that doesn't mean that next time won't be different. I'm a pilot. I belong out there with my squadrons."

"You feel responsible for them."

"Of course I do! I'm the Strike Captain. I _am_ responsible for them!"

"Let's go back a bit. You made a couple of statements about your effectiveness during this last alert." To Apollo's confused expression, she prompted, "You stated that you were standing around in Command with your thumb up your astrum. Now, while that turn of phrase does paint an interesting picture of what you were doing, I'm wondering if it's entirely accurate."

Apollo laughed a little in spite of himself. "Alright, you're right, that wasn't exactly what I was doing, but... I wasn't doing what I'm supposed to be doing."

"How does what you were doing differ from what you think you were supposed to be doing?"

"I wasn't in a Viper!"

"Is that the only difference?"

Apollo shook his head. "I don't understand what you mean."

"You said that while you were on the bridge you were coordinating with your pilots, organizing their defensive lines, correct?"

"Yes."

"Is that something you would normally do while in your Viper, or is that a new function?"

"It's, um, yes, normally I would do that while flying with my squadrons."

"Communicating with the various pilots via communicator."

"Yes."

"So, during this battle, despite the fact that you weren't in a Viper, you were performing a vital function."

"I suppose so, but..."

Radha waited for him to continue, but he remained silent.

"Would you say that you performed this vital function as well as you would have done from your Viper?"

"Not entirely, no," Apollo said stubbornly.

"Why not?"

"I'm not used to operating from that perspective. I'm used to being out there in the the thick of things. It threw me off."

"Alright, that could be a fair assessment. Being in unfamiliar situations can affect anyone's performance. How badly do you think it threw you off? Let's be objective, here. Give it a percentage."

"A percentage."

"Yes. Come on, was your performance completely ineffective?"

"No, not completely."

"So not one hundred percent. Was it mostly ineffective? Say, eighty percent?"

Apollo shook his head mutely.

"Fifty percent? Only half as effective as normal?"

"What do you think you're doing?" Apollo asked irritably. "Alright, no, I wasn't half as effective as usual. If I had been..."

"We're rating your performance, Apollo, not you. What would have happened if your performance had been only half as effective as usual?"

Apollo sighed. "I'd probably have been relieved and ordered off of the bridge."

"Only probably? I don't know Commander Adama personally, of course, but he doesn't seem to be the kind of man who would be unduly swayed by sentimentality."

Apollo laid his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. "Yes, you're right. If I were only operating at half efficiency, the commander would definitely have relieved me. Happy?"

"But he didn't relieve you, did he? So you must have been performing at better than half efficiency."

Apollo made a disgusted noise. "Eighty percent."

"Excuse me?"

"If I had to rate my performance in this last alert, I'd say it was about eighty percent."

"So, what you're saying is that, operating from an unfamiliar perspective and still feeling the effects of a major trauma, you were able to perform a vital command function at eighty percent of your pre-trauma effectiveness, which was obviously enough to bring all your guys back in one piece, at least, correct? Did the commander seem pleased with your performance?"

"Neither the commander nor the colonel seemed displeased, but I am. I know it wasn't my best performance," Apollo argued.

"Probably not. No one operates at their peak all of the time. If they did, it wouldn't be their peak, would it? Apollo, it sounds to me like your original assessment of your performance was way off. Why are you so eager to discount your contribution?"

"I'm not...." He broke off and turned to stare at a corner of the room for a couple of microns before continuing. "I don't understand what you're doing here."

Radha leaned forward. "I'm trying to help you identify and challenge some erroneous assumptions. A lot of the time, we humans judge ourselves quite falsely. We may be perfectly able to assess another's abilities with a fair degree of accuracy and objectivity, but when it comes to ourselves, we tend to go too far to one extreme or the other. People who have undergone a serious trauma tend to do this even more than they would under normal circumstances. It feeds into the emotions aroused by the trauma itself and creates a situation where the person's thoughts and feelings about themselves and the world around them are distorted. My job is to help you find ways to at least minimize the distortion so you can view yourself clearly again.

"I want you to step back from your original assessment of your performance on the bridge last night and look at it objectively. If it had been some other officer performing your duties last night, would you have judged his performance as harshly as you did your own?"

"Alright, I'll admit, I was being overly critical of myself in this instance." Apollo paused and glared at her. "None of your predecessors tried this felgercarb out on me."

"You never let any of them get this far," she responded with a wave of her data pad. "Remember, I've got the benefit of their experience to draw on, here. They all tried to gently establish a rapport through empathy before moving to the hard stuff. That approach obviously was not working. I thought offering you a challenge right from the start might be more effective.

"Now that we've talked about it and you've reassessed your performance, how do you feel about it?"

Apollo thought about it for a moment. "I hate to admit this, but... I do feel somewhat better about it," he admitted reluctantly. "Not great, but better."

"I wouldn't expect great, not at this point. You've got a lot of hard work to do before we get to great. Are you at least convinced now that the work we do here can offer you some relief?"

He was staring off into the corner again, his jaw working silently. There was a long pause before he responded.

"I guess so."

"Alright. Now, let's see what we can do about getting you back where you think you belong. Why don't you tell me about what happened on Malea?"

He shrugged. "You've got the notes."

"Yes, but I'd like you to tell me about it in your own words."

"I am so tired of hearing that! You know, it's almost obscene the way everyone keeps wanting to hear every sordid detail."

"Who has been asking?"

"Salik, Tigh, Farno," he listed off impatiently. "You."

Radha watched as Apollo rose and paced the confines of her small office. His movements were quick, jerky. His hand kept straying to his neck or to scrub through his hair.

"What are you feeling right now, Apollo?"

"Oh, Lords," he said disgustedly.

Radha smiled. "Let's separate it out. Physically, what are you feeling? What's going on in your body right now?"

"Physically? I don't know!"

"Apollo, stop. Now, describe how your body feels right now."

He stopped and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Ah, my chest feels tight and my breathing's off... It's like I can't get enough air. I'm a little nauseous."

"Do you think you're going to be sick?"

"No, it's just a little queasiness," he said, sounding calmer.

"Anything else?"

He frowned slightly. "I've got a bit of a headache. I woke up with it."

"Have you taken anything for it?"

"No."

"Would you like to? I've got some mild pain-killers in my desk."

"No. Thank you."

"Alright. You've identified how you're feeling physically. How about emotionally? Try to be as specific as possible."

He raised his arms and let them fall impatiently. "Pressured. Irritated. Annoyed."

"Why do you feel pressured?"

"Because you're asking me to go over this again and I really don't see the point. Things happened. You know what happened. How is dwelling on it going to change any of that? I just want to forget about it and get my life back to normal!"

Radha sighed. "Apollo, I know that right now all you want is to forget. I understand that, it's perfectly natural, but it won't help. The more you try to ignore your memories, the more they'll pursue you. When you made this appointment, you described a few of the problems you've been having, the difficulties concentrating, the heightened startle reflexes, the nightmares. Those are your memories demanding your attention and they're not going to go away until you deal with them. Many people who've experienced a trauma like yours manage to move beyond it within sectars; for others, the effects can last scores of yahrens. The faster you learn to manage the your symptoms and process your experience, the faster you'll heal.

"You are absolutely right about one thing. Things happened, they happened to you and there is absolutely nothing you or I can do to change that, however much we may want to. What we can do is work together to find the tools you need to relieve the effects you're feeling while you learn to process what happened to you on Malea and move beyond it."

Apollo half-fell back into his seat and rubbed at his temples. "Fine. Wonderful," he said without enthusiasm. "Where do we start?"

"We already have." Radha handed him the data pad she'd been holding. "Based on what you've identified, I've started a list. I want you to add to it between now and our next meeting."

"What am I listing?"

"Think about what happens in your body just before you start to feel agitated or angry or have any other unwelcome feeling. Write down the physical sensations and the emotions that accompany them, as well as anything that may be happening at the time. We want to try and identify any triggers you may have and ways you can use those as a signal to yourself, a sort of personal alert system. If you can learn to predict when a reaction is likely to occur, then we can come up with coping strategies for it."

He stared at the portable unit a little sullenly before he sighed. "Alright."

"Good. Now, back to my original question."

*******************

Starbuck was waiting for him in the landing bay.

"Well?"

"She's alright," Apollo said irritably. He sighed roughly and ran a hand through his hair. "It's not like I've really got a choice, is it?"

"Not if you want Salik to clear you," Starbuck agreed. He looked Apollo over carefully. His lover looked tired, wrung out. "When do you go back?"

"Every quatron for a while, she said."

"Every four days? Why so often?"

"I don't know."

"She didn't tell you?"

Apollo shrugged wearily. "She said... She said things might get worse before they got better," he said.

Starbuck reached out to lay a hand on Apollo's arm only to have him move away. He stamped down hard on the sense of rejection. Apollo was tired and depressed, that's all.

"Hey, you want to stick around here for a while? We could sit in on a game in the chancery, or catch a show, eat something that wasn't produced to a MIL spec."

"No," Apollo said wearily. "I'm kind of tired. You stay, though. Have fun for a change. I'll clear it with Tigh."

"You sure?"

The shuttle crewman called for boarding and the small crowd began to move forward.

"Yeah, Starbuck. I'm sure. I'll see you later," Apollo said.

He waved his travel voucher at the crewman before ducking into the hatch and found a seat without too many people around. Two other passengers, a young woman and her mother, if family resemblances were anything to go by, sat down in his row and Apollo closed his eyes after the obligatory polite greeting and feigned sleep.

A rattling sound jolted him out of his near-doze. He started fully awake, heart racing. He heard a second sound, a light patter on the shuttle's outer hull.

"What was that?" he asked.

The young woman beside him shrugged and he turned in his seat to find the crewman from earlier. The man saw his nod and walked over as another spate of pattering sounded.

"What's that noise?"

The young man glanced at the ceiling. "Oh, that. Apparently, there are some tiny debris fields in this sector, sir. Little pockets of dust. We're passing through one now. It won't damage the shuttle but it's kind of a pain in the neck."

"I kind of like it," the girl commented.

"You don't have to clear it out of the sensor arrays and engine intakes every time we land," the crewman retorted as he went back to his seat.

Apollo sat back down with a sigh. "Debris pockets. Of course it is."

Now that he thought about it, he remembered reading the forward patrol's report on the phenomenon a couple of days before. The patrol had reported clumps of fine debris, no individual pieces more than a few millimetrons across, spread across nearly a quarter of the sector. Not a navigational hazard, they'd said, just an annoyance.

He laid his head back against his headrest and tried to slow his breathing. Another longer series of soft patters and rattles traveled across the outer hull, merging into a gentle hissing sound. He waited for it to stop, but it only slowed for a time before growing stronger.

"It sounds like rain," the girl beside him said dreamily.

It did. It sounded just like rain. Apollo closed his eyes and listened to the soft susuration, an image of water traveling in rivulets across misted glass clear in his mind.

********************

"...So then Loma said Milo shouldn't use words like that, but Milo said--"

Apollo's head was pounding and his son's piping voice was splitting through his skull like a laser. It only added to the nebulous bad humor that had been slowly building ever since the shuttle had landed on the Galactica a couple of centars before. Apollo felt his stomach churning.

"Boxey! Please!"

"Dad?"

"Can you just be quiet for a little while?! Is that too much to ask?!"

"Are you alright?" Boxey asked in a small voice.

Apollo felt a surge of guilt. He tasted acid in his throat and swallowed as he knelt in front of the child.

"Listen, Buddy, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I've had kind of a rough day today and I'm not feeling very well right now."

"Is your tummy sick like it was before?"

Apollo winced. "You knew about that, huh?"

Boxey nodded. "You were sick a lot."

"Yeah, I was. And, yes, I suppose my tummy is sick this evening. So, I think it would be a good idea if you were to go ahead and do your homework and we can make an early night of it, alright?"

Boxey worried his lower lip silently.

"Boxey?" Apollo prodded.

"What about dinner?" the child asked softly.

"Dinner." He'd forgotten about dinner. A new wave of irritation rose, partially at himself for forgetting but partially, irrationally, at Boxey. He shoved the anger aside with another guilty pang. What was he thinking? The child had every right to expect to be fed. He cast his mind over the contents of his small pantry. "Sandwiches. Sound good?"

"Can we go to the mess hall?"

Apollo took a deep breath and rose to walk into the small preparation area. He was starting to wish he hadn't been so quick to tell Starbuck to stay on the Rising Star. Boxey was proving to be a bit more than he could handle tonight and that was both frustrating and frightening. He'd cared for Boxey on his own for two yahrens without a problem, but now... He hadn't realized how much of Boxey's care his lover had assumed over the last sectar.

"No, Boxey, not tonight. I told you, I'm not feeling well."

He pulled the pantry open and started pulling out the items he needed for a quick cold dinner.

"But you wouldn't have to make anything, we'd just get what we wanted," Boxey argued.

"Boxey!"

Apollo slammed a package down onto the work surface and Boxey jumped, startled. Apollo braced himself on the countertop for a long centon and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Boxey, go to your room, now, please," he said. Despite his efforts, he could hear the tremor in his voice and silently berated himself for it.

"But, Dad--" Boxey was nearly in tears.

"Boxey! Do as I say," Apollo said firmly, knowing that he had to get the child out of the room before he witnessed his father lose control completely.

The boy ran into his room, slapping his hand against the door frame as he went. The door slid shut and something thudded against it on the far side.

Apollo ran a shaking hand across his face and dug the heels of his hands into stinging eyes. He needed someone, right now. Athena was working a late shift this sectar. His father -- Apollo shied away from the idea. Adama was not an option. The Lords alone knew when Starbuck would be back.

Wailing, muffled by the closed door, issued from Boxey's room. Crocodile tears, judging from the pitch and volume, but Apollo felt a stab of guilt all the same. He picked up the telecom and dialled.

****************

"He's fine, Apollo," Cassie soothed. "Come sit down."

She patted the cushion next to her invitingly. Apollo glanced back towards Boxey's door once more and moved reluctantly to the couch. He sat down near the far end.

"How's your stomach?"

"Now that it's empty, you mean? Good," he said dismissively.

"He's just acting out a little, you know," she continued. "He picked up on your feelings, but didn't understand them. That's scary for a little guy."

"It was scary for _me_," Apollo murmured.

"I'm sure it was."

Apollo's quarters had been quiet by the time she'd arrived. When she'd stuck her head in to check on him, Boxey had been asleep, his cheeks still moist and warm from his tantrum. Apollo had always been so calm and patient with Boxey, it was painful to see him struggling to care for the boy now.

"I could feel myself getting angrier and angrier and I... I couldn't figure out _why_. It just seemed like everything that happened fed into it until... Cass, I really thought I was going to lose it with him."

"Oh, Apollo."

She stretched one hand out along the cushion between them and after a micron's hesitation, he grasped it tightly.

"The important thing is, you didn't. You got him out of the room, instead. Alright, so he's a little mad at you. He's been mad before and lived to tell the tale, and I'm sure he will be again. After all, you still have puberty to look forward to," she teased lightly.

"If I live that long," he muttered.

She shook their joined hands lightly.

"Apollo?"

"Sorry," he said. He gently pulled his hand away with a pat. "I don't mean it that way, Cass. It's just... sometimes it's hard to think that far ahead. I'm having trouble making plans for next secton, let alone next yahren, or five yahrens from now."

She didn't know quite what to say to that. "It will get better, Apollo."

"Better is relative, Cass."

****************

A narrow shaft of light lit Starbuck's face briefly, rousing him. The bed dipped and he squinted up at the shadowed figure seated across from him.

"Apollo?"

"Yeah, Bucko, it's me," Apollo whispered as he pulled off his tunic. "Go back to sleep."

Starbuck twisted around to get a look at the chronometer.

"Have you been reading those reports all night?"

Apollo laid back with a soft groan.

"No, I finished that up a few centars ago."

Starbuck slid a little closer and reached out a hand to stroke Apollo's arm.

"It's me," he whispered before touching, their agreed-upon warning.

He felt Apollo automatically stiffen and then will himself to relax. He was surprised when, after a few microns, Apollo hitched closer and reached for him. One of Apollo's rare, feather-light kisses touched Starbuck's hair and he snuggled a bit closer, taking advantage of whatever Apollo felt able to offer.

"Did you fall asleep out there?" Starbuck whispered.

"No, I couldn't relax, so I went to the gym for a bit," Apollo answered wearily.

"You're just now getting back? We have to be on duty in four centars," Starbuck complained.

"Then we'd better get some sleep, don't you think?" Apollo answered softly.

***************

"Do you have anything specific you want to address today?"

Apollo studied his interlaced fingers for a moment before answering.

"Yeah... Something happened after I left here last time."

"Oh?"

He nodded silently and Radha waited for him to continue.

"I, um, that night I... I came close to losing control with my son."

"You didn't actually lose control, though?"

"No, I didn't, but it was a close thing. I sent him to his room and called a friend. She sat with me while I calmed down."

"Good. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"Boxey was just trying to tell me about something that had happened during instructional period and I snapped at him. I realized I was having trouble dealing with him, so I suggested that we go to bed early, but I'd forgotten that he hadn't had dinner yet. I wanted to make something quick, he wanted to go to the Mess Hall instead, and it just sort of escalated from there. I don't know why. I've never been like that with him before," Apollo said helplessly.

"Were you alone with Boxey?"

"Yeah, I'd given Starbuck a night off." He chuffed out a laugh and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "It's a good thing Cassie was there to talk me down afterward. If she hadn't, Starbuck would've caught Hades as soon as he walked in the door. I wasn't exactly rational."

"How do you feel about your argument with Boxey?"

"Guilty," he answered quickly. "And scared. What if it happens again? What if there's no one to call next time, or Boxey doesn't do as I say and go to his room? What if I... can't control myself next time?"

"Do you think you would do harm to your son?"

Apollo's stomach clenched at the thought.

"No, not that. I'd never lay a hand on Boxey, I know that," he said quickly. "But I did scare him and that's not acceptable. I don't ever want him scared of me again."

"Alright, it seems to me that there are two problems to address. First, we need to come up with a practical plan for getting help with Boxey when you're feeling overwhelmed. That will help allay your fears about losing control with him. Once that's done we can start working on finding strategies to help you manage your anger so it's less likely to escalate to this point again. Do you agree?"

"I've done the first part." He laughed again. "If there's one thing I can do, it's plan for an identified threat. I've got a list of people who know what's going on and who can step in when I need them. Dr. Salik, Cassiopea and Boomer have all agreed to help out... and Starbuck of course. He's been flying interference patterns for me for a while and I hadn't even noticed."

He realized as it left his mouth that he'd said the last a little bitterly and Radha cocked her head at him. She looked a little like Salik when she did that and Apollo wondered briefly if she was Scorpian as well.

"You don't sound like that pleases you much," she commented.

Apollo looked away.

"It doesn't. I'm ashamed of it, ashamed of myself. Boxey's my son. He's my responsibility and I haven't been fulfilling my duties to him. I've been too wrapped up in myself."

"Do you feel like you've been distancing yourself from Boxey?"

"To a certain extent, yes. I... It's hard to explain. I don't want this to touch him," he said. His face twisted and he picked at the edge of the fabric covering the arm of the chair while he got himself under control. "He's just a little boy, he shouldn't have to deal with this."

"What's 'this?'"

"Me. The way I am right now. What happened. The, uh, the rape."

"'This' is a pronoun used to describe an object, not a person, Apollo. Do you realize that you've dehumanized yourself with that statement?"

Apollo pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, waiting for the stinging to subside.

"Yeah, well, maybe that's appropriate," he answered thickly.

"Why would you think that?"

He leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped, as he gathered his thoughts.

"I feel... different. I don't feel like myself anymore. I've changed, and not for the better, and I don't see how..." He leaned back in his seat again abruptly, head shaking. "I don't know how everyone else can walk around and act as if I haven't. I just..."

Radha waited for him to resume, but he just shook his head silently.

"The reason you feel different, Apollo, is because you _are_ different. Serious trauma causes alterations in the physical structure of the human brain. It rewrites neural pathways and the new pathways are highly emotionally charged. That's why your emotions are so erratic right now. It also changes the way you think and perceive and respond to the world around you."

"So what you're telling me is, I'm not ever going to be able to get back to who I was before Malea."

"No more so than you could go back to being who you were as a teenager, or as a young ensign fresh out of the Academy, or before you sealed and became a father."

"It's not the same."

"No, it isn't. It's a loss that feels more like a death and whether you realize it or not, you're in the process of grieving for it."

Apollo sat silently, head bowed.

****************

Athena stared at her brother's lover and set down her mug.

"Starbuck, that's ridiculous. Apollo's a great dad. He's the kind of dad that makes the other dads cringe and get defensive and start shopping for expensive toys to shore up their sense of adequacy."

Starbuck smiled grimly. "Yeah, well, you and I know that, but right now Apollo's not so sure. I have to pull this patrol tomorrow, 'Thena. I haven't pulled a long patrol in over a sectar and I can't get anyone else to cover for me for this one. Apollo's normal day-care will cover his duty shift, but not the evening. Boomer's shuttling around doing a fleet survey, Salik and Cassie have a surgery scheduled for tomorrow evening... There's no one else I can call."

"Why doesn't he just ask Father? If he knew that Apollo needed help--"

Starbuck laid a hand on her forearm to silence her.

"I tried that one already. He doesn't want the commander to know he's having this much trouble. He's doing his level best to pretend nothing's wrong whenever your dad's anywhere around. Apollo and I have gone 'round about it a couple of times already. There's no swaying him. He wasn't particularly happy when I suggested enlisting you."

Starbuck tried not to cringe at the memory. Twice during the discussion, Apollo had been forced to ask Starbuck to wait for him and had left the room to get his temper under control. Apollo hadn't been happy at all, but had realized there wasn't any choice. He didn't feel like he could safely handle Boxey on his own and their short support list had broken down after only a half-secton. Apollo wouldn't even consider trying to wrangle one of Boxey's friend's parents into an unplanned sleepover, there would be too many questions. He hadn't wanted to involve his little sister in his mess, as he called it, but Athena had been the best solution to a bad situation.

"Well, that I can believe. He's never wanted to admit when he needed help, especially to Father, even when we were kids." She sighed and picked at the Galactica's raptor emblem on the side of the mug. "Do you know how long it's been since I had a furlon - a real one, one that coincided with a break from the Education Center?"

Starbuck grinned, sensing victory. "I know. I know, 'Thena. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Oh, I know you will, Bucko," she retorted.

He set down his mug and started to leave but hesitated.

"Athena... There's one more thing."

She cocked an eyebrow at him over her mug.

"While I'm gone, can you kind of keep an eye on how much Apollo eats for me?"

"Don't tell me you're worrying about his weight."

"Well, I am a little. He's losing weight, Athena. It's hard to tell under the uniform and pressure suit, but he's lost enough that Salik's getting worried. Can you just, kind of, make sure that he actually eats and doesn't just pick at stuff?"

"Are you sure he's well? Boxey said he was still getting sick," Athena asked, concerned. Her nephew had mentioned his dad being 'sick in the tummy' several times over the last secton, now that she thought about it. She'd been so busy, what with the double duty schedule between the Command Center and the Educational Center, that she hadn't really stopped to consider what that meant.

"Yeah, he is, but he's not sick." Starbuck drew a finger through a condensation ring on the table, bisecting the circle at an angle. "He's been having these... Dr. Radha calls them 'intrusive cognitions.' Memories, images sometimes, or just thoughts about... stuff. Sometimes they make him physically ill. Those are actually starting to get better, though. They've worked out some coping strategies to deal with them so he doesn't get so upset by them. He just has to remember to use them, that's the hard part right now."

"Memories," Athena said, feeling a little ill herself.

She hadn't seen much of her brother outside of work since that dinner a couple of sectons ago. The next day, Adama had decided to ignore her brother's wishes and had told her what had happened to Apollo on Malea and she'd avoided thinking about it ever since. The implications of what Apollo had experienced had frightened her badly and she'd thrown herself into her work, telling herself that, since Apollo hadn't wanted her to know in the first place, there was no harm in pretending she didn't. She felt an unwelcome pang of regret that she'd been neglecting her brother and his small family.

****************

Apollo struggled to keep his mind on what Sergeant Birre was trying to show him, but his eyes kept being drawn to the flight crew chief's blue-gloved hand as it traced across the data sheet. He leaned back a bit and closed his eyes, only to have a vision of another set of blue hands replace Sgt. Birre's, thick square palms with blunt digits. He shook his head sharply to clear it.

"Captain?" the older man asked, his voice sounding far away to Apollo's ears.

_That was then, this is now. Concentrate, Apollo._

"Captain?"

Apollo drew a shaking breath and tossed the stylus that had been clutched in his hand down onto the desktop. A hand touched his shoulder.

"Apollo. You're on the Galactica. You're safe."

As his vision cleared, Apollo blinked and looked around, dazed. He was standing, back to the wall behind his desk. His chair lay on its side. Data sheets were strewn across the floor.

"Captain."

Apollo looked up again, blinking. The light in the room seemed brighter somehow. He found Birre standing beside the closed office door. It had been open. _Oh, God..._

"You're safe now, Captain. That was then, this is now."

He finally placed the calm, firm voice in the room as Birre's. He leaned his head back against the wall and gulped in a lungful of air, purposefully slowing his breathing.

"You back with me?" the sergeant asked.

Apollo nodded. He drew a shaking hand across his eyes.

"Sorry, Sergeant. That was, um..."

"A flashback, yes, sir. Seen a few in my day, son," Birre said matter-of-factly. While he righted the chair and retrieved the fallen papers, he chuckled. "Thought you were gonna take my arm off, for a centon, there."

"Oh, God," Apollo said softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't--"

"It's alright, Captain. No harm done. It's just the two of us in here and there was no one in the other room when I closed the door."

Apollo nodded his understanding and made his way back to his chair with a muttered, "Thanks."

"Do you know what triggered it?"

"The gloves," Apollo whispered shakily.

Birre swore and pulled the protective material off of his hands. "Sorry, Captain. Sometimes I forget I'm even wearing the things."

Apollo shook his head. "You couldn't have known, Sergeant. If I said or did anything..."

"It's alright, sir. Startled me a bit when you came out of the chair, but I recognized the signs." The big man looked down at the gloves clutched in his fist. He looked back at Apollo seriously and warned, "I'm likely about to overstep my bounds."

Apollo laughed and shook his head. "At this point? Go ahead, Birre."

"Do your father and the Colonel know?"

Apollo wet his lips and nodded painfully. "Yes."

"Are you seeing someone for it?"

"Yes," he answered more firmly. "Can I ask you one?"

"Sure."

"How did you know what, um, what to do?"

"Like I said, sir. I've seen a few. I was in an accident a few yahrens ago, before the Destruction, an explosion on a launch bay. We were refueling a Viper. Killed five crewmen and the pilot. I survived. There was a time when I was sure I'd never see the inside of a launch bay again. I was sure I never wanted to. That was then, Captain," the big man said meaningfully.

"This is now," Apollo finished.

"Alright, then. Do you want to go back to those charts now, or do you need a few centons?"

Apollo closed his eyes and took another steadying breath. "I'm good. Let's get back to it."

****************

Sitting at the dinette table with Apollo in his quarters, Athena struggled with the change in her brother. He'd been not so much happy as resigned to seeing her at his door and had invited her to sit after dispatching Boxey to his room to pack an over-night bag. He'd been rattled by something that had happened that day with one of the crew, although he wouldn't tell her much about it. Athena reached across the table to him and he took her hand, more tightly than she was accustomed to from her normally reserved brother.

"I guess there's no keeping things quiet, now," Apollo said softly, his mood dejected.

She still wasn't sure what had happened, but tried to soothe anyway.

"You've been on light duty for over a sectar, Apollo. Of course, the crew have noticed."

He looked up at her, blanching, and she knew she'd said exactly the wrong thing once again. She had a talent for it.

"I hate this," he said fretfully. "It shouldn't be like this. _I_ shouldn't be like this. I should be able to shake this thing. I should be stronger than this."

He bowed his head and Athena realized that the hand clasping hers was trembling.

Athena didn't know what to say to him.

"What does your doctor say?" she asked, throat tight.

He laughed softly. "She says I should excise 'should' from my vocabulary. She calls it my number one distortion, although catastrophism apparently runs a close second."

"Aunt 'Thena!" Boxey came bounding out of his bedroom. "I've got my things ready!"

Apollo sat up straighter and released Athena's hand, scrubbing at his eyes quickly. When he looked up, she could see that his eyes were red-rimmed but dry.

"Hey, Buddy," he crooned and pulled Boxey up onto his lap. Boxey slid an arm around his father's shoulders and hugged him tightly for a moment. "You be good for Aunt 'Thena, alright?"

"I'll be good," Boxey promised.

Apollo laid his head against his son's. "I know you will, son. You're a good boy. I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad."

"I don't think this is exactly what Starbuck had in mind," Athena commented to her brother as he showed them to the door.

Apollo smiled wryly.

"I'm sure it isn't, but... I need some time, Athena. I'm not good company."

"What are you going to do with tonight?"

Apollo shook his head. "I'm tired. I'll probably call it in early and just get some sleep."

As Athena walked down the corridor, Boxey's hand in her own, she thought about what Apollo had said. He was right, she decided, a stirring of anger in her gut. He shouldn't be like that. Her brother shouldn't be like that at all.

****************

Ondrus glanced up at Corporal Linoel. The boy looked even more nervous than usual. Ondrus grunted and jabbed in the direction of the only other chair in the tiny gym office with his stylus, then went back to reading the report on his desk as the corporal sat. He added his approval of his second's recommendations and signed the report, then sat back. He was in the office late this evening and wasn't exactly thrilled to be kept longer.

"Well? What's on your mind, Linoel?"

The youngster took a deep breath and released it quickly, then took another. "It's about one of the officers, sir," he said.

Ondrus frowned. "Oh?"

"Not a complaint, sir," the corporal added quickly. "I'm... well, I'm kind of concerned. Permission to speak freely about a senior officer, sir?"

"Go ahead," Ondrus said carefully.

"Captain Apollo, sir. He's been coming in at odd centars, usually when no one else is around. He's been logging a lot of centars, sir."

"He's been coming in on your shift?" Ondrus asked. Linoel usually worked the ship's night shift, which should have been Apollo's current sleep period, if memory served.

"Yes, sir. Like I said, he's coming in at odd centars, and the way he's going at it... he's not stopping for breaks and as far as I can tell, he's not taking rest days. I'm worried that he's over training. I've been hesitant to say anything myself..."

Ondrus grunted. He could well imagine. It would take more than a skinny corporal, regardless of his hand-to-hand qualifications, to tell the Galactica's Strike Captain that he needed to go home and get some rest. He studied the boy silently for a long centon.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Corporal. The captain's one of our ship's athletes and he just got off of Life Center Relief not that long ago. He's probably just trying to get back into shape. I'm sure Apollo knows what he's doing."

Linoel nodded. "Yes, sir."

Once alone, Ondrus called up the training records for the last two sectons. Apollo's name appeared at least once a day, sometimes twice, in addition to his regularly scheduled PT sessions, and often in the early morning or late into his squadron's sleep period. Ondrus pursed his lips for a moment. Apollo had always had a tendency to push himself physically, especially when he was under stress. They'd talked about it a time or two in the past. It looked like it was time to have another little talk with the captain.

As he watched, the screen refreshed and Apollo's ident code appeared again at the bottom. Well, well. Ondrus could almost hear his dear departed grandma's voice.

"Speak of Diabolis and he shall appear," he muttered.

He wandered out of his office just in time to catch Apollo coming out of the locker room and pitched his voice to carry over the ambient noise of the gym: "Captain! Weigh in!"

Apollo seemed to hesitate a micron before waving to him and trotting over to the scales. Ondrus eyed him as he approached. He was a bit thinner about the face, maybe, but that could be put down to his recent illness. Apollo stopped obediently on the pressure-sensitive floor plate and they watched as the digital readout wavered and stopped.

"You're down quite a bit, sir," Ondrus commented. "Nearly a five-percent drop from your last weigh-in."

Apollo grimaced. "Yeah, Dr. Salik mentioned it, too. I've been a bit off my feed lately."

"Nothing serious?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Apollo answered coolly.

Ondrus nodded. "I noticed you've been clocking a lot of centars in here over the past few sectons. There's been some concern," he stated obliquely.

"Has there?" Apollo pulled another face. "I was on Life Center Relief for a secton, Ondrus. My muscles are still feeling a bit under-used. I need to get back in form, especially if I'm going to keep up with that torture regimen you and I devised. What was I thinking?"

Ondrus grinned at him. "Nothing wrong with that, Apollo. Just make sure they don't start feeling over-used. You might want to take a day off from the intense workouts, do some stretching or light calisthenics instead. If you need some advice on supplements, sir..."

"No, please, not you, too," Apollo pleaded jokingly. "Between Starbuck and Salik, I've gotten all the supplemental advice I can stomach. Some kind of protein stuff that's being forced down my throat religiously."

"Alright, sir," Ondrus chuckled. "I'll leave you to it, then. Just keep an eye on it, alright?"

"No problem, Sarge." Apollo waved at him as he jogged the short distance to the treadmills.

***************

Apollo rolled out of bed and stumbled. He caught himself against the wall and staggered blindly into his main living quarters and the head beyond. He barely made it in time to empty his stomach into the receptacle. He leaned against the toilet for a long centon, shaking, before the mixed odor of vomit and semen and sweat drove him to the shower stall. He set the water to its hottest setting. In the safety of the shower, his skin reddening from the heat of the water and the friction of the cloth, he allowed himself the luxury of tears.

Limbs shaking, Apollo made his way back to his sleeping quarters. He gagged a bit at the smell in the room and had to duck out for a micron to take a deep breath of relatively clean air before returning. That smell wouldn't go away if he didn't do something about it.

"Lights, on full."

With shaking hands, he stripped the bed and bundled the soiled linens into the hamper and set the device to automatic cycle. He looked back at the bed. There was a wet spot on the mattress.

_God..._

He scrubbed the heel of one hand across his eyes again and took a deep breath. There was a bottle of enzymatic cleanser in the head. He retrieved the cleanser and sprayed the liquid over the wet patch, then turned his attention to the rest of the room.

"Environmental controls, recirculate air."

Apollo checked the chronometer next to the telecom. Starbuck would be back soon, within the next two centars. He hoped the smell would be gone by then.

A soft chime signaled the end of the recirculation cycle. Apollo retrieved a towel from the head and went back into his sleeping quarters to blot at the damp mattress. Tears threatened again as he leaned on the folded towel.

_What kind of sick, perverted... Can't do a thing for Starbuck, but for that..._ _for those __**things**__..._

He laughed at himself, a harsh wet sound that ended in a sob. The memory of rough hands and trilling laughter and the smell of semen filled his senses and he stumbled out of the room again.

"Environmental controls, recirculate air."

He had to get that smell out.

****************

Starbuck sighed as the door slid shut behind him and rolled his neck to ease some of the tension. The pressure suit might keep his blood from clotting in his veins on long patrols, but it did nothing to ease the cramping in his muscles or the stiffness in his joints. It was in moments like these that he was ruefully aware that, regardless of whether or not he knew the exact date, he had indeed edged into his third decade.

He glanced around the living quarters. It was early in the ship's morning, so he hadn't expected anyone to be up when he arrived. He opened the door to Boxey's sleeping room quietly and glanced in to check on the boy. With a soft whirring, Muffit II swung its optical and auditory sensors towards the door. The mechanism's eyes glowed green for a micron in the darkened room before it identified Starbuck and returned to stand-by. The bed was empty and neatly made.

"Good daggit," Starbuck muttered and closed the door. Boxey must have gone home with Athena. He grinned tiredly to himself. Some sectars after unleashing the mechanical daggit onto an unsuspecting Galactica, a series of complaints had led Apollo to sit down with Boxey and explain that there were some places where daggits just didn't need to go. Aunt Athena's quarters had been one of them. Starbuck had happened to be present for that discussion and he and Boxey had verbally tag-teamed Apollo, insisting that clarification was vital. They had tossed out a long list of locations and circumstances needing Apollo's opinion on whether a daggit might be inappropriate, each more ridiculous than the last, until all three of them had dissolved into laughter.

Still chuckling over the memory, Starbuck made his way toward his and Apollo's sleeping chamber. As the door opened, the slightly metallic ozone tang from the recirculation program hit the back of his throat. The room was dark but he could see in the dim light from the main room that the neatly made bed was empty. Sighing, he called up the lights.

Apollo had been busy. The room practically gleamed. Starbuck shook his head.

"Well, I know how you spent your evening," he muttered.

Starbuck sat down on the foot of the bed and allowed himself to fall back. He stared at the joint that bisected the ceiling for a long few centons, thinking nothing at all. Kobol, but he was tired. Physically, yeah, but this was more than physical. He was tired mentally, emotionally -- spiritually, even, though he'd have scoffed at the idea only a sectar ago.

_Not laughing, now._

A tear tracked from the corner of his eye to fall onto the coverlet. More followed.

****************

"Cass?"

Cassiopea looked up at the hesitant call, one hand on the Life Center door control. Apollo was sitting on one of the bench just outside. He looked almost haggard.

"I know you're supposed to be on duty this morning, but can we talk?"

She hesitated only a micron. "Sure, come on in."

Apollo rose slowly and glanced through the transparent doors into Life Center's main bay. "I don't want to keep you from your duties... If now's not convenient--"

She took his arm and pulled him along to one of the curtained exam alcoves.

"Traj, I'm just going to have a look at the Captain, here," she called to the desk medtech as they passed. She stopped long enough to pick up one of the waiting medical scanners. "Can you log us in?"

"Sure thing, Cassie," the man answered vaguely, more interested in the word puzzle on the desk than in either of them.

She shoved Apollo into the alcove and pulled the curtain shut. It took a micron or two to calibrate the scanner and access Apollo's baselines and records.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving us a reason to talk while I'm on duty," she said. "I think I'll start with that leg you're favoring."

Apollo grimaced. He'd thought he'd covered the stiffness in the knee better than that. "It's nothing," he dismissed.

"Hmm. Almost nothing," she agreed after passing the scanner over the leg. "You've got some inflammation in the patellar tendon and in the hamstrings. Nothing a couple of sectons rest and an anti-inflammatory won't cure. What are my chances of getting you to stay off it?"

He chuckled softly and flexed the knee, testing the sharp pain below his kneecap.

"That's what I thought," she said. "Apollo, you've got to take better care of yourself than this. It's just tendinitis right now, but you could do real damage to yourself, sooner than you think."

"I'll try, Cassie," Apollo said. "I can't just stop, though. I've got to keep going. Sometimes I think it's the only thing that keeps me going at all. It clears my head. The only way I can sleep lately is when I'm exhausted and even then..." He stopped and looked away, flushing suddenly.

"Even then?" she prompted.

"I'm having nightmares again," he muttered, seeming almost embarrassed.

She studied him for a moment. "Dr. Salik could prescribe something to help you sleep."

"No drugs, please," Apollo said stubbornly.

She sighed and pulled out a hypospray.

"Cass!" he protested.

"Standard non-prescription anti-inflammatory, Apollo," she said, waving the hypo. "For the knee. Now, drop 'em. It'll work faster if I can inject it at the site."

He reluctantly unfastened his pants and lowered them to let her inject the knee. She massaged the injection site for a couple of microns, then stood back to allow Apollo to pull his uniform back together.

"Now, why don't you tell me about these nightmares? Are they the same ones as before?"

His nightmares in the past had been vague, swift images and feelings of entrapment, pain and terror with few details. He'd told her what he could about them and she knew he'd talked to Starbuck as well, but they'd seemed to ease once he'd begun seeing a therapist regularly. Or perhaps he'd just gotten better at exhausting himself into sleep, she considered.

He shook his head and coughed out something that was almost a laugh. "No, these are worse. A lot worse."

"So tell me," she said gently. She settled next to him on the narrow cot so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder.

She watched him fight with himself for a long centon before answering.

"You know, Starbuck and I..." he trailed off and ran a hand through his hair roughly, blushing. "We haven't... I haven't been able to... Sometimes I can't even let him touch my hand, others..."

"Yes?"

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "The spirit's willing but the flesh is... uncooperative."

She nodded. "That's not uncommon, Apollo. Men who've experienced this kind of assault will usually do one of two things: either they have problems performing sexually at all, or they'll act out and basically frak anything that moves almost compulsively."

"Great. At least I know I'm not alone."

"You really aren't, Apollo," she said softly.

He nodded and looked away again. "Yeah, Cass. I'm a bit slow sometimes, but I think I'm finally starting to get that."

"Good. Now, what has this got to do with your nightmares?"

"I had a dream last night, about Malea. It was very vivid and I, ah..." He stopped and looked up at the ceiling, swallowing hard. "I came."

"Oh. Well," she said. "At least now you know you can."

"What?"

She laid a hand on his arm. "I'm not making fun, Apollo. I'm serious. Do you know what causes wet dreams?"

"Yes, but I haven't had one since I was kid, and this wasn't--"

"Yes, it was, Apollo. Nocturnal erections happen normally during REM sleep, while dreaming; it's the body's way of running a systems check. If a dream is particularly intense, a nocturnal emission can occur. Generally, it's kids who have them, but most men have them occasionally and some men continue to have them regularly well into adulthood, regardless of their sex lives. It's a simple physiological process. It has nothing to do with sexuality or desire. That's what's bothering you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He stared at his hands for a few centons.

"Apollo, was this dream just something your subconscious cobbled together?" she asked on a sudden impulse.

He shook his head helplessly. "I don't know. I, ah, I didn't remember anything like it before, but now... There wasn't that much to the dream, just th-the activity, but ever since I've been getting these flashes: sounds, scents... I know what they sound like when they laugh."

"Apollo, I have to be very careful, here--"

"I think it happened, Cass," he interrupted. Vague snatches of memory were coalescing. Words tumbled out in a low, impersonal tone. "It did happen. Part way through. They thought it was funny when I -- when I got an erection. It doesn't happen with them."

"They didn't know human physiology," Cass said.

"I know that. I know. Biological process," Apollo choked out. "I know that. Fear, anger, pain, friction... I've had to take care of enough pressing issues after battles to be familiar with it. I know. It wasn't that, not really. It was the position. They, ah, when they found... they hauled me over onto my back. Starbuck and I..." He broke off and closed his eyes, rubbing at them with his palms. "There was a skylight, I could see it past their heads. There was rainwater running down it in trails. I just concentrated on that and the sound of the rain."

Cassiopea sat silently and fought for the impersonal demeanor she needed. "It's going to be alright, Apollo," she said once she'd regained her voice.

He didn't answer and she looked over to see him staring blindly into the distance, tears falling in silent tracks across his cheeks.

"Do you want me to call Dr. Salik?" she asked softly.

He shook himself out of whatever place he'd been in his thoughts and scrubbed at his face.

"No, I'm good." He took a deep breath. "I would like to talk to you about... You said part of your socialator training involved... helping people with problems like mine."

She looked at him, startled. "Apollo, I don't know. Are you sure you're ready?"

He nodded decisively. "I am. I'm ready."

He wasn't. He wasn't anywhere near ready and Cassiopea knew it, but she also knew how much this particular symptom was weighing on him.

"Apollo, why do you think you want to try this?"

He gave her an arch glance and she continued: "Hey, you asked me to bring my training as a former socialator to bear on your problem. This is part of it, flyboy. I need to know your motivations."

He sighed and nodded, gathering his thoughts. "Alright, ah, I want to be able to have a normal relationship with Starbuck. I want to not flinch whenever he touches me. I want to be able to touch him without... without having to fight back intrusions. He deserves more than I can give him, Cassie. He was my friend and I asked him to be more, to be my lover. He agreed and he's never looked back and I am... incredibly grateful for that. But right now, he doesn't have a lover or a friend and it's wearing on him."

"Sex isn't a requirement for a healthy relationship, Apollo. It can be a pleasant expression of love and affection, but it isn't the only one. Both you and Starbuck know that."

"I know that, Cass, you're right. But it's not just for Starbuck, it's for me, too. It's just..." He shook his head again. "It's like there's a wall between us. I can't reach through it, I can't go around it. I just thought, maybe, it would help if..."

Cassiopea sighed. "What you're looking for is connection, Apollo. Sex just isn't going to do that for you right now. Have you talked to your counselor about this?"

"A little. Not much," he said, blushing.

She chuckled. "You and your good Caprican upbringing. You're really not comfortable talking about sex, are you? How did you and Starbuck ever manage?"

"There wasn't all that much talking involved."

"Hmm. Tell you what. I know a few techniques - not necessarily sexual techniques, but things that could help you start to reconnect with Starbuck. Talk to your counselor and find out if she has any objections to me teaching a few of them to the two of you. You'll need to talk to Starbuck, too, make sure he's alright with it."

Apollo nodded. "I have another appointment with Radha tomorrow; I'll talk to her about it."

"Do you have a duty shift today?"

"No. I'm still on light duty, so I've got short shifts and short sectons." He chuckled softly. He'd tried fudging his schedule, staying after his official shift, scrounging work on his scheduled off-days. Tigh hadn't been best pleased. "Too much time on my hands."

"Why don't you go back to your quarters, then, and rest up? You look like need it," Cassiopea said gently. "How's the knee?"

"Better," he assured her. The joint cracked as he straightened it to stand.

"Stay off it," Cass ordered. "It's on light duty, too."

****************

Apollo stood in the door to his sleeping chamber and watched Starbuck sleep for a few centons. His lover was stretched out in the center of the bed, on top of the covers. He was still in uniform and looked like he'd simply collapsed into sleep upon walking through the door. Apollo smiled to himself and quietly pulled a blanket from the closet's overhead storage. He draped it over Starbuck's sleeping form and quietly withdrew from the room. Starbuck shifted in his sleep and pulled the blanket closer to his face, unconsciously welcoming the added warmth.

Apollo let the door slide closed. Starbuck needed his sleep. Apollo would stretch out on the couch for a nap rather than risk waking him. He was just drifting off when the door chimed.

"Felgercarb," he muttered.

The door chimed again. Apollo sighed and decided to answer it before whoever it was woke Starbuck.

"I want to talk to you, Apollo," Athena said, entering swiftly without waiting for an invitation.

Apollo frowned. His little sister was traveling under full sail, cannon at the ready, but he had no idea what he could have done to bring her here. He stood and watched as she steamed into the dining area and turned, waiting for him with folded arms and a determined expression. The door bleeped at him and he realized he was still holding the entry control. He pulled his hand away and the door slid shut.

"Come sit down," Athena directed firmly. It was the same tone Apollo had heard her use with Boxey's first yahren class and it irritated him.

"Why don't you tell me why you're here, first?" he suggested. He made no move toward the chair she had indicated. "Aren't you supposed to be in the Education Center right now?"

"It's meal period, I've got a break, so I'm here to talk to you."

Apollo nodded warily. "So, talk to me, Athena. What's on your mind?"

"I know what this is all about," she said abruptly.

Apollo nodded and looked away. "Starbuck told you," he said. "I knew he'd have to."

"Starbuck didn't have to tell me anything. Father told me sectons ago," Athena said. "I didn't say anything because I reckoned it was a private matter. If I'd known you were going to behave the way you have been --"

"Behave the way I've been? Athena, you have no idea what's going on, and you have got no right --" Apollo took a step toward her and stopped himself. "I think you need to leave now, Athena."

"Not until I've had my say," she said stubbornly.

"You've said quite enough already."

"No, I haven't. Apollo, there are people here on this ship who rely on you! We all need you out there doing your job, Boxey needs a father, Father needs a son he can count on, and here you are, holed up in your quarters playing the wounded martyr! It's been over a sectar, Apollo! You have got to let this go and get on with your life and if what you need is a kick in the astrum, I'm here to deliver it, big brother!"

"That's enough!" Starbuck's voice cracked between them in that rarely-used commanding tone that sent juniors hopping when they heard it. "Athena, Apollo's asked you to leave and it's time you did."

She stared at him for a micron, then turned back to her brother. Apollo was white-faced and shaking with anger. His green eyes were wide and stood out against the pallor.

"Apollo--"

"Get out," Apollo ordered, his tone dangerously soft.

"Alright, I will," she said coldly. "But don't expect any more coddling from me. From now on, you can look after yourselves."

Starbuck crossed the room in a micron and took her arm firmly, steering her toward the door.

"Don't worry about that, lady," he said just as coldly as he shoved her out the door.

Starbuck stood for a centon after it closed, resting his head on the cool metal. The room was silent except for Apollo's ragged breathing. He moistened his lips before speaking.

"Apollo--"

"No."

Apollo's tone was cold but distracted and Starbuck looked back at his lover to gauge his mood. Apollo was still standing where Athena had left him, staring into the now empty room. Starbuck turned and reached out to touch Apollo, barely remembering to warn him first.

"It's me, Apollo."

"No!" Apollo pulled away from him, hands raised as he backed away a couple of paces. "Not now, Starbuck. I can't. I need... I need to get out of here for a while."

Apollo pushed past him and out the door.

"Where are you going?" Starbuck called after him.

"I'll be back!" Apollo answered as he disappeared around the corner.

Starbuck let the door slide shut and pounded on it in frustration.

_Damn the woman. Damn her to all of the sixteen hells of Aries._


	5. Chapter 5

Tigh turned as the bridge turbolift opened. Apollo stalked up onto the command dais.

"I need to speak to my father, Colonel," he said grimly.

"He's in his office, Apollo, but he's in a meeting with--"

"Thank you," Apollo said abruptly, not waiting for the rest. He made an about-face and left the dais, heading for Adama's chambers.

The yeoman in the outer office stopped him. "I'm sorry, Captain, but Commander Adama left word that he was not to be disturbed."

Apollo made a frustrated noise and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fine. I'll just wait here," he snapped.

"It may be a while, yet, sir. Sires Gellar and Anton have been in there with him for almost a centar."

Apollo threw himself into one of the chairs in the outer office without answering.

The yeoman paused, then asked, "Can I get you something while you wait, Captain?"

His first impulse was to snap at the young woman again, but he held his tongue and answered almost civilly through stiff lips.

"No, thank you, Erae."

"Very well, sir," she answered and turned her attention back to the work on her desk.

Apollo leaned his head onto steepled fingers and tried to control his breathing. His first impulse had been to confront his father over just how much Athena knew and when. Now that he was forced to stop and think about things, he wondered if he weren't focusing on the lesser problem, lashing out at Adama because Athena was out of reach. His fury with his sister had been like a wild thing that he'd only barely kept in check. He had been serious when he'd told her it would be better if she left. He rose as the door to his father's office opened, knowing that he still looked grim, but feeling better in control of his emotions.

Sire Gellar paused as he exited the room, a satisfied smile touching his thin lips. "Well, Captain Apollo. What a surprise. We were just discussing you, young man."

Apollo stared at the dapper little man for a micron before his father's taller form caught his eye. Adama shook his head in warning.

Sire Anton's smile was more sincere as he took Apollo's arm and added warmly: "We understood that you were unwell, Captain. I'm very glad to see you up and about, my dear boy. It does us all good to know that you are feeling better."

"I appreciate your concern, sire," Apollo answered the elderly councillor politely with only a slight emphasis on the second pronoun. "I'll admit, I was ill for a while, but as you can see, I'm very well now."

Anton smiled again and patted the hand under his own.

"I don't know," Gellar said appraisingly. He tapped a thin finger against his pursed lips as he studied Apollo closely. "The boy doesn't look well, Adama, not well at all. He looks peaked."

Apollo bristled at the self-satisfied tone to the old man's pronouncement. "I assure you, Sire Gellar, I'm doing much better."

"Ah, then we can expect a return to your full duties, Captain?" Gellar fixed him with an avid eye. "I'm sure you know, the Galactica needs her Strike Captain. However, if you feel the need to take a little... sabbatical, well--"

"My return to full duties isn't up to me, Sire Gellar," Apollo answered honestly. "If it were, I'd have done so already. It's Dr. Salik's decision to make."

"Really? How very interesting."

Adama stepped forward between his son and Gellar.

"Sire Gellar, didn't you say that Sires Loran and Domra were waiting for you? A committee meeting, I believe," Adama said firmly, leading the smaller man toward the outer door.

"Indeed they are, Adama," Gellar replied with a smirk. "Indeed they are. I take my leave of you all. Good day, Anton. Captain."

They all watched as Gellar left the chamber. Anton patted Apollo's arm once more.

"Sometimes, my boy, you have the most unfortunate timing." He turned to the commander, but Apollo had no doubt that the next words were as much for him as for his father. "Never fear, Adama. Tinia and I will redouble our efforts to keep the lupus from your door." He patted Apollo's arm once more before leaving.

Apollo spun back to Adama.

"Father, what was that about?" he asked, motioning toward the door.

"It's nothing for you to worry about, Apollo," Adama said firmly. "I'm taking care of it."

His father's denial worried Apollo more than an explanation could have done.

"Did you need to see me, son?" Adama laid a hand on Apollo's arm to direct him into the inner office. He tried not to notice when Apollo jerked at the unexpected touch.

Apollo allowed himself to be steered and the door slid shut behind them.

"Yes, I -- Father, is the Council gunning for my job?!"

"Not at all, Apollo," Adama admonished. "As I said, it's nothing for you to concern yourself about."

Apollo stiffened. "Father, I'm not twelve yahrens old. That won't work anymore. I'd appreciate the truth."

Adama snorted. "It didn't work all that well when you were twelve, either," he allowed. He walked Apollo over to the couch. "Alright, the truth. Some genuine concern was expressed in Chambers over the length of your recuperation, Apollo."

"Concern!" Apollo scoffed.

"Yes," Adama said firmly. "That's all it was: concern. Just as when Siress Nona's daughter was having difficulties with her pregnancy, or Sire Loran's youngest grandchild was ill. We're colleagues, Apollo. Occasionally, we do talk about subjects other than Fleet business. Sire Loran had heard that you were ill a few sectons ago and inquired." Adama sighed. "Unfortunately, certain members of the Council have begun to believe they see an opportunity."

"An opportunity to replace me, you mean! Why do they care about the Galactica's Strike Captain?!"

Adama smiled thinly and motioned to the Merella board in front of them. "Why did you care about that castellan you took from me last secton? It supported my position on the third tier. A commander's position is only as strong as the support he receives from his warriors and you, my son, are seen as one of my staunchest supporters."

Apollo scrubbed a hand over weary eyes. "It's a political move."

"Yes."

"Father, I--"

"The Council of Twelve does not determine the Galactica's officers. I do."

"Yes, Father," Apollo whispered.

_But what if they're right? What if I can't do the job anymore? _

He didn't dare give voice to the questions, not here, not to Adama.

His father patted his arm firmly, pleased that Apollo had dropped the issue. It really wasn't anything Adama couldn't handle. "Now, what did you come to discuss with me?"

Apollo rose, head shaking. "It's unimportant, Father. I -- It doesn't matter."

*******************

"So what if they _are_ right?" Radha asked. She tapped her stylus on the edge of her data pad and cocked her head at Apollo.

He stared at her, shock freezing his tongue. It took a micron or two for him to recover his voice. "What?!"

"We're playing the 'what if' game aren't we? You're engaging in which distortion?"

Apollo sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Catastrophism," he answered grudgingly.

"And to combat the catastrophism, you need to come up with appropriate reasoned responses to replace the distorted thinking," Radha said. "So, what if whatever council member is making waves at the moment is right and for some reason you can't resume your duties? What's the absolute worst that can happen?"

Apollo shook his head slowly, mute.

She leaned forward to meet his eyes. "Will they toss you out the nearest airlock? Shoot you at ship's dawn?"

"No, of course not," he said impatiently.

"Well, then?" Radha cocked her head at him. "Let's take it out of the current circumstances. Let's say that some time in the future, you've fully recovered and are doing well and something happens. You end up with a medical discharge. What would you do?"

Apollo shook his head slowly. "I have no idea. I never wanted anything else. The whole time I was growing up, I lived and breathed fighters. When the other guys were idolizing Triad players or musicians, I was hounding my father about battlestar commanders and war stories." He laughed sharply. "I must have driven him half-mad over Cain."

"Oh?"

Apollo grinned lightly. "Commander Cain was my idol."

"Oh, dear," she said, amused, and he laughed again, more genuinely.

"Yeah." He paused and stared at his hands for a centon. "Radha, I don't even want to think about what I'd do if... If I couldn't be a warrior. It's what I _am_. I hate the thought of having to sit in my quarters and let someone else do the fighting for me."

"It gives you sense of control," Radha acknowledged.

"More than a sense," Apollo said. "And it's more than that. I... need it. I need to be doing something meaningful. I can't just sit back and let other people make the sacrifices for me -- not that I think other people are doing that," he added hurriedly. "Everyone in the Fleet contributes to the best of their ability, I know that. I just think that being a warrior is the best way for me to contribute."

Radha nodded. "I know being a warrior is important to you, Apollo. But if you absolutely had to?"

He looked away again and shook his head. "I suppose I could make myself useful around the Academy..."

"You teach there occasionally, now, don't you?"

He quirked a smile. "Sometimes when things are slow I'll give a lecture or two. I don't really have time for it, though, normally." He laughed suddenly.

"What?"

He grinned as he looked up at her.

"I could always run for a seat on the Council."

"There you go. Wouldn't _that_ give the old men pause?" Radha said with a grin.

Apollo looked away, his smile fading.

"Apollo, what do you think would happen if you were to have to move on to another profession?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I've never even considered it before."

"It never occurred to you to wonder what you'd do if the war ended?"

"Oh, that, yes." He grinned softly. "My brother and I talked about that. Zac. It was, um, it was the last conversation we had together."

"He died during the Destruction?"

"Yeah. He, um... Not in the Colonies, though. Zac was at Cimtar with the rest of the Fleet."

"He was a warrior?"

"Yes. He'd just graduated a few sectons before. I still had him in shakedown, hadn't let him assume flight duties yet."

"So, Zac was on the Galactica, under your command."

"Of course he was. It was traditional." Apollo grinned. "And Father didn't want a repeat of my scandal."

"Oh, what scandal was that?"

"You mean, the son of a battlestar commander who didn't want to serve on his father's vessel? After all, if a commander couldn't inspire confidence in his own children... I guess it was my answer to adolescent rebellion. Father had to defend himself and me in Chambers for a while, there. High Command didn't know what to do with me. I ended up staying at the Academy for a couple of yahrens as a junior instructor, before they shipped me out to the Arctic base on Piscea. I think it was intended as a disciplinary posting."

"Really?"

"The Picean Arctic base was small -- just twenty pilots, assorted ground crew and support staff and the base commander, all of us male during my tour. Luck of the draw," he said with a shrug. "The base was largely inaccessible except by air for most of the planetary year, and then the Piceans were pretty stingy with their outside communication. Aside from routine patrols and the occasional skirmish, the base had lots of rocks, lots of ice and not a lot else."

"Were you suitably chastened?" Radha asked with a grin.

Apollo laughed. "I loved it. Learned to ski during the summer and earned expert ratings in mountaineering and arctic survival.

"The base commander, Conover, he made sure I got what he considered a decent posting when it came time. He was a good man. I had some of my guys do a flyover after the Destruction. I thought, the base was so secluded, maybe..." He shook his head. "It was a crater."

"So, back to Zac..."

"He was the first casualty at Cimtar."

"You're certain of that?" Radha asked, surprised.

"Oh, yes." Apollo nodded and paused. "We, ah, we were on patrol together. I found the strike force by accident - literally stumbled across them. Zac's ship was hit and one of his engines was disabled. The Cylons were... jamming our transmissions. I had three working engines and we had to get word back to the Galactica. I told him I'd come back for him, but... they got him before I could."

"How do you feel about Zac's death?"

Apollo scratched at an eyebrow. "I miss him. He was such a kid, still, bouncing all over the place. Zac was a menace to military discipline and decorum. He was crazy to fly." Apollo smiled at the memory. "If you mean, do I blame myself, no. He was a warrior, we each did what we had to do. He comported himself with courage and honor. I wouldn't take that from him. If we're apportioning blame, I blame the Cylons and Baltar. That patrol should have been safe."

Radha nodded. "How about that last conversation? You were talking to Zac about what you might like to do after the war was over."

Apollo laughed again, an ironic sound. "Yeah. I told him I wanted to do deep space exploration. First contact stuff. Some joke, huh?" he said bitterly.

"Why do you say that? I hear you're pretty good at it."

"Oh, yeah, I'm great," Apollo scoffed. "So how did I end up here?"

"Do you blame yourself for what happened to you on Malea, Apollo?"

"Who else is there?" he asked with a small laugh.

Radha cocked her head at him again. "How about the Malandri?"

He shook his head and rose to pace along the length of the room. "I'm the one who left them the opening. I'm the one who allowed myself to be separated from my team, who made the decision to leave our weapons behind. We should have just turned that shuttle around and left. I didn't even consider it."

"I thought you said the Malandri requested the weapons be left aboard the shuttle as part of their security protocol?"

"Yeah, they did. But I'm the one who decided to honor their request."

"What would have happened if you hadn't?"

"They would have told us to get lost and we'd have come home."

"But then the mission would have been a failure, wouldn't it?"

"It was a failure anyway!" He laughed again harshly and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "It was all a joke. The Malandri had no intention of negotiating with us for anything."

"Did you know that at the time?"

"No, of course not. I thought--" he stopped himself.

"What did you think, Apollo?" Radha prompted him after a couple of microns.

"I was an idiot. Full of myself," he said with undisguised disgust. "The previous trade mission had gone really well, and the one before that, and I reckoned I... had a knack for it, I guess. I let myself get complacent. I let... I let it happen."

"So, in your assessment, you are one hundred percent to blame for everything: the failure of the trade mission, what the Malandri did to you, everything."

"Oh, Lords. Are we playing percentages again?" Apollo asked, sounding half in dread of the proposition.

"Oh, I think maybe we need to, don't you? Does one-hundred percent personal culpability sound fair to you?"

"Yes. I was the mission commander. It was my responsibility, my decisions that got us there."

"And the Malandri themselves had no part in that?"

She waited for him to break the silence. He'd stopped facing a wall, head tilted back, eyes closed. He didn't answer.

"Were the Malandri sentient beings, Apollo?"

He sighed roughly. "Yes, of course they were."

"And being sentient, they could think for themselves, reason, make decisions on what actions to take?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"And one or more of them decided on that day to trick you, confine you and rape you, but you don't hold them the slightest bit responsible for their actions?"

More silence answered her.

"Apollo, you said before that you didn't feel guilty about Zac's death because he'd acted with courage and honor and you didn't want to diminish that, to take it from him, I believe were your words."

He turned back to her, his eyes reddened and cheeks flushed.

"Yes."

"Courage and honor are good things, virtues. Zac earned the right to be remembered for them through his actions."

"Yes," he answered again.

"Do you believe the Malandri acted with courage and honor?"

"Gods!" he spat, shocked. "No!"

"How did the Malandri act?"

He turned away again, breathing heavily. "They were... filthy. Despicable."

"Then why do you want to take that from them?"

*****************

Tamar jumped with a stifled shriek as a pair of arms slid around her waist. Her shriek turned into giggles as lips nibbled against the back of her neck, tickling the short hairs that had escaped from her clasp.

"Toban! I told you to wait outside," she whispered. "You're going to get me into trouble!"

"But I was pining!" Toban complained. "I was wasting away, right out there in the Life Center waiting lounge. Now, how would that look?"

"Oh, you think you're so funny," Tamar said with mock-severity. She glanced around to see if anyone had seen Toban come into the Medtech office. "Now that you're here, you'd better stay, but keep out of sight!"

"How much longer?" he asked, just a hint of a whine to his voice as she pushed him into a corner that wasn't easily visible from the pass-through window into the small room.

It was an incongruous sound coming from such a tall man and Tamar was amused despite herself. She giggled again.

"I've just got to finish uploading these test results. Another ten centons, that's it," she promised.

Toban moved back into contact with her, sliding a knee between her thighs in promise as he kissed her neck. "Then we can go back to your billet?"

"I thought you wanted to eat?" she teased breathlessly.

"Not hungry," he said softly.

She took a deep breath and pushed him away with a firm hand on his chest. "Ten centons. Dr. Salik will have my head if these files aren't ready for the medical scanners by tomorrow."

Toban chuckled and leaned back against the counter. He casually picked up the spare medical scanner that lay next to his hand and toyed with it for a few microns.

"Say, how do these things work anyway?" he asked, curious.

Tamar looked up from her own scanner. "Hmm? Oh. The scanners have a connection to the main Life Center computer, that's what I'm updating now. When a patient comes in, we enter his name and ident code and the scanner accesses his records for us. That way we can compare the current readings to the recorded baseline scores and see the results of any recent testing. That sort of thing."

"You have records for everyone in the Fleet?"

"The system wouldn't work if we didn't," she said, her attention returning to her work.

"And anyone can see them with one of these?"

Tamar glanced up at him and smiled. "Well, only if they have a Life Center access code, of course."

Toban waited until her attention was fully focused and slipped the scanner unobtrusively into a pocket in his tunic. He slid back up to her and pulled her back against him.

"Call up my records, Medtech," he said teasingly. "I feel kind of funny."

"Oh, really?" Tamar said, a hint of a smile back in her voice. "What's your complaint?"

"I think I have a fever," he said, rocking her gently as he hooked a chin over her shoulder.

"Ow! That's an old one!" Tamar said, laughing.

He chuckled against her hair as she entered her code and pulled up his baseline records. She held the scanner's sensor wand in one hand while she twisted in his arms to kiss him. The scanner beeped and they pulled apart to read the output together.

"Nope, no fever," Tamar said. "You're just fine."

At that moment the scanner beeped again and Tamar switched screens and sighed.

"And the upload is finished and confirmed. Now we can get out of here."

*****************

"Did I tell you I talked to Cass again yesterday?"

The sudden question in the quiet dark roused Starbuck from his near-slumber. He shifted and turned his head to the side. Apollo's hair tickled his nose. It was a close night. Close nights had been coming with greater frequency over the last secton or so since Athena had dropped her little payload.

Starbuck still had no idea where Apollo had gone after leaving their quarters. Apollo hadn't returned until centars later, long after Boxey had returned home, and had been morose and quiet all that night and most of the next day. He'd been better after returning from the 'Star that next evening, though. He'd seemed more relaxed. He'd been allowing more physical closeness from both Starbuck and Boxey and when the child had pulled out one of his boardgames a couple of times during the secton, Apollo had even joined in the games.

"Again? You talk to Cass almost every day, Apollo. So do I. About what?"

"Yeah, I didn't tell you, sorry. I talked to her about a secton ago, in the morning, before Athena... you know."

Indeed he did. Athena had been steering well clear of Starbuck and it was just as well she did.

"What did Radha have to say about that? You never mentioned."

Apollo sighed softly. "We've talked about it a couple of times. It's going to take a while, Bucko."

Starbuck pushed down his own anger at Athena. "Yeah, for me, too."

Apollo's head shifted, turning as if he could see Starbuck in the darkened room. "Starbuck--"

"Hey. She had no business, Pol. None. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Starbuck sighed. "For bringing her into it. You didn't want to and I should have listened."

"We didn't have a choice, Starbuck. I know that."

"Still--"

"Shh. It's done. No sense dwelling on it. Radha said there was no way to predict how people would react and that some reactions would be negative. I guess I already knew that. I just didn't expect..." Apollo paused and Starbuck could feel his throat move as he swallowed. "The things Athena said hurt and, yes, I'm angry with her, but at the time I was more angry at Father for telling her before I was ready. Believe it or not, I had something else on my mind by the time I saw Radha."

Starbuck shifted and pulled him a little closer. "Something else?"

"Athena's not the only one who thinks I'm not doing my job," Apollo said flatly. "I went to see Father when I left here that day..."

Starbuck stiffened. "Apollo, there's no way I can believe the commander --"

"No, not him. Sire Gellar was there."

Starbuck snorted. "So that's what was bothering you. Since when do you care what Gellar thinks?"

Apollo pulled away and turned onto his back. "I don't, really. It was just... he made these sly comments. Insinuating. You know how he is. And I'm not thinking very clearly these days."

"Yeah." Starbuck reached over and passed the knuckles of one hand along Apollo's cheek, feeling his lover stiffen and then sigh, irritated with himself for the reaction.

"Don't you want to know what Cassie and I discussed?" Apollo asked irritably.

Starbuck grinned into the dark. "So, what did you talk about? Should I be jealous?"

Apollo took a few microns to answer, and Starbuck prodded, "Pol?"

"We talked about us -- you and me," Apollo whispered. He took a deep breath. "We talked about... maybe... if you want to, that is..."

Starbuck's hand itched to reach out and stroke through Apollo's hair, but his lover was suddenly taught as a bowstring next to him and he didn't know how it would be received.

Apollo took another shuddering breath that ended with one of his laughs that weren't. "You know, maybe it's not such a good idea--"

"Apollo, I don't even know what the idea is," Starbuck complained gently. "And now you've got me worried. What about the two of us? We're good, right?"

"I want us to be. We used to be, didn't we?" Apollo said sadly.

"We still are, Pol," Starbuck answered.

Apollo's hand sought out his in the dark and Starbuck held it tightly.

"Cassie had some ideas about... rebuilding trust... getting me used to touching and being touched again. Things that will work faster than waiting it out the way we're doing. I didn't mention it because she had to clear it with Radha, first. She told me today that we've been given the go ahead. I want to try."

"Anything you want, you know that, Pol, but are you sure--"

"I'm sure. She said it wouldn't be anything sexual and she would be there the whole time, in case something happens."

"You mean like a flashback?"

He felt Apollo's head nodding on the pillow next to him. "Or a panic attack, or something like that."

Starbuck felt a small wave of apprehension rise, but dismissed it. This was something Apollo wanted to do. To tell the truth, a large part of Starbuck wanted it, too. He missed being able to just touch his lover without having to warn him first. He just hoped it was the right thing to do.

"Alright, then. We'll see what Cassie has in mind."

**********************

Salik looked up as the door opened. Women's voices carried through vaguely before the women exited the room.

"Alright, Chlora, I'll see you in two sectons, then. Be well."

"Be well, Radha," a small plump woman answered softly. She smiled over at Salik briefly before hurrying on down the corridor.

A tall woman with short-cropped blonde hair turned to Salik and his companion.

"Dr. Salik, and you must be Cassiopea," she said with a brief professional smile. "Come in."

She led them into the room and closed the door.

"First, I want to thank you for agreeing to this meeting. Dr. Salik and I have been conferring via communicator, but the are are some things I just don't like to discuss over interfleet communications."

"I understand entirely, Radha," Salik said.

"Cassiopea, something came up in a recent session. Apollo seems to have recalled certain events that weren't part of his original narrative. I wanted to discuss the circumstances surrounding that. I need to be clear about how he came to remember these details," Radha said. "I need to be sure that they weren't coaxed or coached in any way, even inadvertently."

"I understand," Cassiopea said with a nod. "Apollo came to me about a secton ago to talk out nightmare he'd had. He was upset by it... What he described was more vivid than most of his other nightmares. I did ask if it was something his subconscious had pulled together, but I was careful not to suggest it was anything else."

Radha frowned. "You didn't suggest any details or that you thought there was something he wasn't remembering at that time or at any time in the past?"

"No, I've been careful not to suggest any such thing. I let him tell me about things if they come up, but that's all."

"No attempts at dream interpretation?" Radha pressed.

Cassie bristled at the suggestion.

"If I may, Radha," Salik interjected. "When Cassiopea told me about this, I went back over Apollo's records. The scenario he described does match some of his visible injuries."

Radha frowned and pulled up the record on her data pad.

"Here," Salik said, leaning forward to indicate the correct section. "The suction and light bite marks on his chest below the clavicle. You won't get those face down and I can't see him allowing it if he were standing and able to resist."

Radha nodded. "Alright, we'll go with this being a spontaneous recall of some sort, for now at least. I don't like sudden memories coming to the fore; it sometimes happens but it isn't typical. I especially don't like it since we haven't been doing any real memory work, yet. We've been working on controlling his symptoms pretty exclusively. If he dissociated during the event, though -- and that's what it sounds like from his description... To be honest, I suspected there were some gaps in his narrative. I thought he was purposely omitting details, but it could be that there was some dissociated material that just hadn't been triggered until now. Considering the way it emerged, it may not be entirely accurate, but since there's some physical evidence to support it, I'm a bit more comfortable working with it at the centon.

"Now, Dr. Salik, I looked over the medical records you sent. I agree there's cause for concern, but I'm not sure how much. Is it possible that this is something left over from his illness?"

Salik snorted. "Not likely. That's been cleared up for sectons. No, this is something else and it's not medical. We may need to intervene."

Radha scrolled through the report on her data pad. "I see a lot of repetitive stress complaints, here."

Cassiopea shifted. "Apollo's been using exercise to help him manage some of his symptoms. I encouraged it at first, but now..."

"Don't feel badly, Cassiopea," Salik said. "So did I."

"So did we all," Radha sighed. "If this is what I think it is, I've seen it before. You've confirmed that he's taking the supplements you prescribed?"

"Starbuck says he is and I trust his word on this, at least," Salik said. "But it doesn't seem to be making any difference in his condition."

"The thing is, Sgt. Ondrus says he's stopped going to the gym outside of his regular scheduled PT sessions," Cassiopea added.

"Because it's starting to worry people so he's working out in secret," Radha said grimly. "If it's what I suspect, he'll be taking advantage of any spare centon he can find alone, even if it means shirking his duties or avoiding his friends and family. It won't matter how much he eats, because he's working it all off. Injuries won't slow him down, either."

"Why would he do that?" Cassiopea asked, confused.

"Because he can't stop himself," Salik answered for Radha. "Obligatory exercise? I didn't think that was generally accepted as a diagnosis."

"Depends on the Colony. On some Colonies this type of excess was considered acceptable behavior, even encouraged, especially in athletes. Caprica was one of them," Radha said, confirming Salik's guess with a nod. "It's not a traditional eating disorder, though it is control-related. It's more in the obsessive/compulsive spectrum. High-achieving, intelligent, driven, perfectionist: Apollo's well within the risk population. I'll still have to check for the presence of body dysmorphia, but I don't think that's an issue."

"And in the meantime?" Salik asked.

Radha frowned. "It will be better for him if he can address it himself. His symptoms are starting to decrease; he may be able to do so before much longer."

Salik sat back with a sigh. "I agree, but if his weight drops much further or if he does more damage to himself, I'll have to take action."

Radha tapped a stylus against the edge of her data pad while she studied the medical data that scrolled by. She sighed.

"I'll confront him with it. It may not be as bad as all that, he may still be able to pull himself out of it and come up with some healthy coping mechanisms to replace it. Please remember, though, Salik, it will likely take a few sessions to get through to him."

********************

"The information you collected for me was useful, Toban. Very useful -- if limited," the old man said with a sharp look.

"It's the information any medtech could access. I didn't realize there were different levels of codes. Sorry," Toban answered, his negligent tone belying the apology.

Gellar snorted in disbelief. "I'm sure.

"But as I said, it was useful all the same. I gave it to a member of my staff who'd had medical training back on Aquaria."

"You trusted someone on your staff?" Toban asked, genuinely interested. For once the old man had surprised him.

"I trust my staff implicitly, young man." Gellar paused and took a delicate sip from his glass of ambrosa. "Of course, I removed the identifying information. I told him they were my nephew's records."

He chuckled softly.

"Ah!" Toban answered, amused, though perhaps not at the same thing. "Of course. So, what does your personal not-quite-a-doctor have to say?"

Gellar cocked an eyebrow at the insolent tone, but answered primly. "He's a bit concerned, actually. He says there isn't anything physical on which he can blame the test results, but that my nephew has lost a considerable amount of weight in a short time and is showing repeated minor injuries to the joints and muscles. They aren't serious in and of themselves, but over time and at this frequency they could lead to much more serious injuries. The weight loss is worrisome because he can't find a source for it. The patient is not yet technically underweight, but based on his own baselines is not at his optimum. His stress hormones are also quite elevated. In the absence of a clearly defined physical illness, he suspects an emotional disorder of some sort."

There was such satisfaction in the old man's voice at this last pronouncement that Toban looked up again.

"I have another little assignment for you, Toban. Another source has told me that Captain Apollo travels to the Rising Star at the same time every quatron," Gellar said. "I want to know where he goes and why."

"What do you care?" came the laconic reply.

"I don't for the boy's sake, of course. That young man has never made a secret of his disrespect for the Council or for me in particular." Gellar sat up straighter in his chair and adjusted his collar. "I'm curious. A little family scandal may be just what we need to break Adama's stranglehold on the Fleet, once and for all. There is entirely too much power invested in that family."

_Or have the opposite effect entirely._

Toban kept his thoughts to himself while he raised his glass and drained the last of the councillor's ambrosa. "They do alright."

"They do not," Gellar said sharply. "And even if they did, 'alright' is hardly good enough in these trying times."

"Whatever. Same rates as before."

Toban tilted his glass toward his host. Gellar snorted derisively as he refilled it.

"Of course. You have no imagination, my boy, none at all."

Toban grinned. "As you've often told me, Uncle, blood will tell."

"Indeed."

********************

Apollo came through the door to soft lighting and soft music. He stopped just inside and looked around.

Starbuck and Cassiopea were sitting at the table with a cup of tea each. They looked up as Apollo entered.

"Um, hi, Cass," Apollo said, his throat suddenly dry. He looked over at Starbuck. "Where's Boxey?"

"He's got that school project he's working on with Dillon, so they're over at his family's quarters," Starbuck answered. "Cass and I thought it might be a good idea to take advantage of the opportunity. If you still want to, that is."

"Yeah, I want to," Apollo said uncertainly. He just hadn't planned on it right now. He'd planned to go for a run and tire himself out thoroughly first to reduce his reactions. He ran a hand through his hair.

Cassiopea studied him carefully. "Apollo, if you're not comfortable with this right now--"

"No! No, it's not that, I just..." He looked at Starbuck, who'd dropped his gaze to the table and was toying with the handle on his cup, a faint frown lining his forehead. Apollo swallowed. "I'm comfortable with it," he answered softly.

Cassiopea watched him for a micron more, then smiled.

"Why don't you come over here, then? Did you want something to drink?"

"No, thanks," Apollo muttered. He walked over to the table and stood next to Starbuck, who looked up at him as he approached. "Hi."

Starbuck quirked a smile at him. "Hi, yourself," he answered, voice husky.

Starbuck looked as nervous as Apollo felt and some of the ambushed feeling started to fade away.

Cassiopea rose, picked up the cups and took them into the small kitchen area.

"Have a seat, Apollo, and for Sagan's sake, take off the flight jacket," she called over her shoulder. "Relax!"

"That's easy for her to say," Starbuck said with a jerk of his head towards the kitchen, and Apollo laughed, a large part of his tension draining away.

"Now, there's one thing I need for both of you to understand," Cassiopea said as she returned. "It's absolutely imperative that you both be completely honest with me and with each other during these exercises. Some discomfort is expected, but if either of you feels too uncomfortable to continue, you need to tell me immediately. Apollo, that means you, especially. No toughing it out, tough guy."

She sweetened the last comment with a fond smile and Apollo flushed and looked away.

"What we're going to try today is called a sensate-focus exercise. The idea is to get you both re-accustomed to touching each other in a non-sexual and non-threatening way. You've

both been affected by what happened on Malea, you most directly, of course, Apollo, but Starbuck's been affected, too. You'll both be rebuilding trust in yourselves and each other."

She paused as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small chronometer which she placed in the center of the table.

"This is a timed exercise. We'll start with just ten centons. You'll take turns touching and being touched. The idea is for each of you to concentrate only on the feeling of your partner's skin touching your own for that five centons. Don't worry about anything else, just that point of connection between the two of you. It will probably feel strange at first. That's alright. If your mind wanders, don't worry about it, just pull your attention back to the feeling of his skin on yours. The idea here is just to get used to touching each other intimately, but not sexually. Arousal isn't the goal, so don't worry if it doesn't happen. It probably won't.

"There's one other thing. There are boundaries to this exercise as well. For this first time, we'll stick to the face from the top of the head to the base of the neck, alright?"

She watched the two of them trade a skeptical look.

"You need to agree to that ahead of time, guys. Whichever one of you is being touched needs to know he can trust the other to stay within the boundaries that have been laid out. Apollo, do you think you'll be comfortable with this exercise? The truth."

Apollo opened his mouth to deliver an automatic answer, then reconsidered. He took a deep breath and nodded. "I think so. It should be alright."

"I'm alright with it if Apollo is," Starbuck volunteered softly.

Cassiopea smiled. "Alright, then. Apollo, I think it would be a good idea for you to do the touching this first time. Are you comfortable with that?"

Apollo released a relieved breath. "Yeah, yeah, I am. Thank you."

"Alright, push your chairs around to face each other. Take a couple of deep breaths and relax. When you start, Apollo, keep your touch very light and slow, sensual. This isn't a firm touch, just a gentle caress. You're touching for your own pleasure. Don't worry about what Starbuck's thinking or how he's reacting; if you do something he's uncomfortable with, he'll say 'stop.'

"Hear that, Bucko?" she added with a quick glance at the other man.

Starbuck tore his eyes away from Apollo.

"Say 'stop' if I need to, yeah," he said. "I will."

"See, no pressure," Cassie said. "Just focus on the sensations, alright?"

Apollo nodded silently.

"Once you start, there's no talking unless one of you needs to say 'stop.' Let your fingers to the talking." Cassiopea leaned forward on the table and picked up the chronometer. "Apollo, think about Starbuck. Think about how much you love him and hold on to that feeling when you touch him. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," Apollo whispered.

"Alright, begin."

Apollo reached out with one hand then paused when he saw the shaking in his fingertips. He slowly clenched and flexed the fingers and looked up to see Starbuck watching him. He reached out again and slipped his fingers gently through the hair that fell across his lover's forehead, watching as Starbuck's eyes fell shut. He closed his own eyes and concentrated on the feeling of Starbuck's hair slipping past his fingers until he touched skin, smooth and slightly oily with the afternoon. He followed the curve of his lover's face, fingers dipping slightly at the temple, the feathering touch of Starbuck's eyebrows light against the pad of his thumb. Emotion tightened his chest -- love, affection, but laced heavily with a depth of sadness he hadn't expected -- and he drew an open-mouthed breath to clear it. Apollo curled his fingers and drew the backs of them up across Starbuck's cheek, enjoying the way the pale afternoon stubble rasped against his skin. The slight friction helped clear out the last of that paralyzing misery and he focused his attention on it. As he reached the top of Starbuck's cheek, he felt a flutter against his skin -- eyelashes, he realized. He moved to the other cheek and repeated the slow upward journey until he felt that flutter again. It caught him by surprise when Cassiopea's soft voice called time.

Apollo allowed his hand to drop to his lap as he opened his eyes. Starbuck's eyes met his and he looked away quickly, shaken, though by what he couldn't have said. That tightness was back in his chest, a heavy weight above his heart and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

"Pol?"

Starbuck's soft voice, sounding so uncharacteristically tentative, undid him. Apollo bolted. He let the door to the head slide shut behind him and leaned forward against the vanity, allowing his arms to support his weight. He felt stripped, exposed, flayed open. He took a few deep, shuddering breaths, trying to will the tightness in his chest to ease and the shaking in his limbs to stop.

A light tapping sounded on the door.

"Apollo? Are you alright?" Cassiopea called softly.

He nodded, then laughed softly at himself when he realized she couldn't see him. He swallowed once and then again before his voice returned.

"I'm alright," he called. "Just give me a centon."

"Alright, take your time. We'll be waiting right here."

He fished in the small cabinet for a clean cloth and washed his face, enjoying the feeling of the cool, soft cloth against his heated skin. He took another couple of deep breaths and opened the door.

Across the room, Starbuck stopped mid-stride in his pacing and raked worried eyes over Apollo. He took an abortive half-step towards Apollo, then stopped as if uncertain of what to do next.

Apollo raised his eyes to the ceiling and addressed the riveted seam.

"I'm sorry."

A soft scuffing sound answered him as Starbuck shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, Bucko," Apollo repeated. He laughed suddenly and diverted his attention to the floor, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I think this would have been hard for me before."

He didn't elaborate. He knew it wasn't needed.

"Do you want to continue?" Cassiopea asked.

Apollo nodded. "Yeah, I do. I'm good, now."

"I don't know that I am," Starbuck said, sounding strangled.

Apollo looked up at him, startled.

"Apollo, you just ran from me!"

"I didn't run from you!"

"No? You just suddenly really needed the turboflush?!" Starbuck asked, gesturing to the door behind Apollo. He spun around and resumed his pacing.

"I wasn't running from you, Starbuck. It was... I felt... I _felt_ and... it was just t-too much for a centon," he finished, knowing he sounded incoherent but hoping his lover was getting the message he was trying to convey. "It wasn't you."

"I don't _believe_ this!"

Starbuck spun again and marched toward the door to their quarters. He stopped short. A few more paces, then the corridor -- then what? He stared at the door, numb with indecision. If he walked out now, would he be able to come back? Would he want to?

Behind him, Apollo cleared his throat. "Besides, I wasn't running."

Starbuck turned back, staring incredulously. "What do you call it?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

Apollo stood, chin set in that stubborn way that Boxey was starting to imitate, and looked Starbuck squarely in the eye. "Strategic withdrawal."

Starbuck stared, blinking. His outrage selected and discarded a dozen half-formed responses before giving into the only one that seemed to fit. He laughed. Within microns he was laughing so hard he was crying, and then he was crying in earnest and Apollo was there, arms around him and he clutched at his lover. For once, Apollo didn't pull away.

*******************

"Apollo, are you sure you want to try this again?" Cassiopea studied him worriedly.

"I'm sure, Cass."

"Your reaction was pretty strong last night. I wasn't expecting that."

Apollo laughed. "I wasn't either. It was like... opening a floodgate and releasing a tidal wave. I can't even really describe it." He rose and paced across the living area of his quarters. "I didn't know what to expect, Cassie. Now, I do. I want to try again."

"Starbuck, what about you?"

Starbuck nodded slowly. "It's important, Cass," he said, as serious as she'd ever heard him.

"Apollo, you don't need to force anything. If you aren't ready--"

He came back to Cassie and knelt beside her chair. "I almost lost him, Cass. I have to fix this."

"_We_ have to fix this," Starbuck interrupted. "It's both of us, Pol."

Apollo looked at him and nodded, accepting the correction. "It's everything. It'll eat us both alive if we let it. I love you, Starbuck. I don't want that to happen."

Starbuck smiled gently at him. "I love you, Pol."

Cassiopea looked from one man to the other.

"Alright, then. Let's get this underway."

********************

Starbuck took a breath to steady his nerves and raised his hand to Apollo's face. Apollo watched him until his fingers touched Apollo's cheek gently. Starbuck watched as Apollo's eyes fluttered closed and Starbuck moved his hand, slowly traveling in a series of short strokes to his lover's hairline. He raised his hand and stroked along the shell of Apollo's left ear. Apollo's mouth opened slightly as his breathing quickened and he shifted his head slightly into the pressure. Starbuck felt his own pulse-rate rise in answer and moistened his suddenly dry lips.

"Apollo, focus," Cassiopea said softly. "Don't worry about his reactions, Starbuck. Close your eyes and focus."

Starbuck glanced across the table. He'd forgotten she was there. He closed his eyes and allowed his hand to trail down from Apollo's earlobe to his jawline. The skin was smooth along the curve of Apollo's jaw and Starbuck grinned when he realized Apollo must have stopped somewhere to shave before coming back to their quarters. He knew Starbuck preferred him clean-shaven. His fingers slid down to stroke Apollo's neck. He felt Apollo stiffen alarmingly and the quickened breathing he'd been enjoying before became distressed.

Starbuck froze for a couple of microns, but when the expected order to stop didn't come, he allowed himself to continue. He had to trust Apollo to stop him if it was needed. Apollo sighed deeply and relaxed again as Starbuck's hand moved to the other side of his throat and began a slow journey back up.

Cassiopea watched the two men from across the room. This set of exercises was going far better than the last and it was a balm to her shaken confidence. It helped that she'd called and spoken to Radha, who seemed to think Apollo's strong reaction was a good thing, a sign that he was opening up emotionally again. She was especially pleased that he was not only willing but insisting on trying the procedure again. Any indication that Apollo was ready to move past avoiding his emotions was to be welcomed.

The timer chimed and she looked up from her musings. Starbuck allowed his hand to drop into his lap and Apollo opened his eyes and smiled a little shakily at his lover.

"Alright, Apollo, how do you feel about the exercise this time? Were you comfortable with what Starbuck was doing?"

He nodded thoughtfully. "For the most part, yes. I had one, um, intrusion... just a momentary flash of... something, but I was able to set it aside and focus on Starbuck again."

"How about you, Starbuck?"

"I knew when you had that flash," Starbuck said thoughtfully. "I could tell. I almost stopped."

Apollo smiled softly. "I'm glad you didn't."

Starbuck didn't answer, just reached up and drew his hand across Apollo's cheek, reveling in the feeling of touching him freely.

Apollo leaned into the caress, then opened his eyes and said seriously, "I can't promise it'll be quick, Starbuck, but I am trying to get better."

"I know you are, Pol." Starbuck's hand slid around Apollo's head to pull them together so that their foreheads touched. "That's all that matters."

*********************

The alarm went off and Apollo groaned. He smacked at the chronometer blindly. Beside him, Starbuck groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head to block out the sound.

Damn, he hated mornings. He hated mornings almost as much as he hated the reason his alarm was set for a full two centars before Starbuck's. He couldn't avoid it, though. Avoiding it was worse. He knew he'd feel awful all day if he didn't get his astrum out of bed and run. He'd missed a run a few days ago and had been irritable all day until he'd been able to steal a little time in an out of the way area to do enough calisthenics to make up the difference.

The alarm buzzed again.

If he hauled out now, he could be back before Boxey had to be off to instructional period.

Apollo sighed at the inevitability of it and rolled out of bed.

***********************

Radha handed him a pad of drawing paper and a stylus.

"You've got to be kidding," Apollo said flatly.

"We're going to try a little something different this session," Radha said.

"I hope you're not expecting anything recognizable. I couldn't draw a straight line if my life depended on it."

Radha smiled. "I'm sure it won't be as bad as that."

Apollo sighed with the distinct air of a man who was amiably humoring another's whims. "Alright, so what am I supposed to be drawing?"

She smiled. "Come stand over here."

He sighed and rose, crossing the small room to stand where she'd indicated. A curtain covered the wall from floor to ceiling. Radha pulled it back to reveal a full-length mirror.

"I want you to draw what you see in the mirror," Radha said.

Apollo laughed and looked away, flushing.

"Come on, Apollo. Humor me," Radha coaxed.

"You've been talking to Salik," he said with a sigh.

Radha nodded. "Dr. Salik and I confer about once every couple of sectons, but you already knew that," she said.

"And you know that wasn't what I meant," Apollo returned with a flash of irritation.

He turned away abruptly and scribbled over the paper for a couple of microns before handing it back to Radha. A stick figure frowned up at her from the page.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a smart-astrum?" she asked.

He smiled grimly. "Once or twice," he admitted.

She allowed her own smile to fade. "I need to know what's going on inside your head, Apollo," she said seriously. "I'm a psychiatrist, not a psychic. If you don't tell me, I won't know."

Apollo shrugged. "So ask."

"Alright. What's going on inside your head, Apollo?"

He scratched at his left eyebrow and shrugged. "Care to be a little more specific?"

Radha nodded. "When we started this, I told you that there were some things I'd expect from you. One of them was that you'd take care of your body. No self-destructive behavior allowed, remember?"

"I haven't been self-destructive," he answered sharply, sounding somewhat petulant.

"Dr. Salik's records suggest otherwise," Radha commented. She opened a folder containing a hard-copy print of Apollo's recent medical reports. "Over the last sectar and a half, your body weight has dropped almost eight percent below your minimum baseline. You're showing signs of repetitive strain injuries to your joints. Your blood work shows an increase in cortisol, indicating that your body has resorted to burning muscle to survive, which means you're losing muscle mass. And according to Sgt. Ondrus' records, your PT scores, following a brief increase, have been going steadily down. All of this indicates pretty severe over-training, Apollo, especially over such a short time."

"I'll admit, I've lost a little weight over the last few sectons," Apollo said. "But it's really not enough to worry about."

"Do you realize that if you lose another seven percent below your baseline, you'll be officially categorized as anorexic?"

"Oh, for Sagan's sake!"

"I'm serious, Apollo. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

He sighed impatiently and shook his head. "I'm not doing anything to myself, Radha!"

"Then why are you scaring the felger out of your partner?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Starbuck... over-reacts sometimes."

"Does he? Starbuck's known for over-reacting?" Radha asked skeptically.

"Sometimes, he can. He is, this time," Apollo answered stubbornly. He made an impatient gesture. "Listen, I know it looks bad, but really, there's nothing wrong. I'm not intentionally doing anything to myself. I just haven't had much appetite. I'll keep taking Salik's supplements and I'll make an effort to eat more regularly, will that satisfy you?"

"And the over-training?"

"I am not over-training," Apollo insisted.

"Then why are your PT scores falling? Why the injuries?"

"I'm having a little slump. It just means I have to push harder and work through it. As for the other, everybody gets a pulled muscle or a strained tendon every once in a while. You have to push your body if you're going to make any progress and these things happen. It heals and you go on."

Radha studied him for a centon. "Apollo, if a young man or woman under your command came to you with the kind of symptoms I've described and asked you for advice, what would you tell them?"

Apollo nodded irritably. "I'd tell them they were probably over-training and to back off for a secton or two, but that's immaterial. It doesn't apply to this."

"Why not?"

"Because I know what I'm doing and I am not over-training."

***********************

"I just think you're blowing this all out of proportion," Boomer said. He leaned back in his seat and studied the man seated across from him. "What's going on, Starbuck? This isn't like you."

"Thank you, Boomer," Apollo said fervently. He waved his mug in Boomer's general direction. "Listen to the man, Starbuck. Stop worrying."

Starbuck gave Apollo a frustrated look and turned to glare at their friend. "I'm not blowing it out of proportion, Boomer. Salik and Cassie are worried, too."

"Starbuck, look. I'm taking Salik's supplements; you watch me take them with breakfast every morning. I'm eating all my primaries," Apollo said, motioning toward his half-eaten lunch plate.

"Even his temper's improved," Boomer said with a grin. "He hasn't shot down a cadet for being out of formation in over a secton."

"Only because the flight instructor won't let him back in the simulators during class periods," Starbuck said bitterly.

Apollo grinned at him. "Even if I promise to be good?"

"Not a chance in Hades," Starbuck said firmly, jabbing toward his lover with his fork. "And if you ever pull a stunt like that in one of my classes again, I'll kick your astrum all the way back to the Cyranus Galaxy. Negative reinforcement, my astrum."

Apollo laughed and applied himself to the meal in front of him. He was in an uncommonly good humor. It had been a long time since he'd felt this good. In fact, he couldn't remember ever feeling this good. He had more energy, too. He'd been running his lieutenants ragged for a couple of days now. He knew why: despite Radha's warnings of last secton, despite Salik's nagging and Starbuck's worrying, Apollo knew his hard work was finally paying off. If Starbuck would just relax, everything would be fine.

His good mood evaporated as the three of them walked into the Ready Room. A group of warriors were clustered around the video scanner unit. One of them - Ensign Markan from Silver Spar Squadron - glanced up as Apollo entered and stiffened to attention.

"Captain!"

Markan's greeting was just a bit too bright and loud. Several other warriors stiffened as well. Two reached for the controls to the scanner at the same time, inadvertently slowing each other down. Apollo got there in time to lay a hand on the control.

"Let's see what's so fascinating that you're willing to show up late for a patrol, Lieutenant Bris," he said smiling grimly at the pretty blond pilot.

She colored and looked away.

He turned his attention to the screen and caught sight of the IFB's latest addition to their news line-up. Bella called what she did life-style reporting. Apollo, who had once been married to a real reporter, called it tabloid gossip. Apollo had been happy to tell her so on the one occasion a few sectars before when she'd tried to elicit a comment from him on some minor scandal.

"Oh, please tell me you're not risking going on report for this garbage?"

Then the picture changed. Apollo's own face appeared, in downcast profile. It looked like someone had caught him distracted on the Rising Star. He even recognized the scrap of inoffensive decorative artwork hanging on the corridor wall behind his head. He'd seen it often enough. It hung in Radha's corridor.

Bella's voice had been droning on as he stared in shock and he forced himself to focus on what was being said. "The source has identified the particular quarters as belonging to a woman named Radha, designated a psychiatric counselor. Is the Captain seeing this Radha professionally? It's been reported that the Galactica's Strike Captain remains on light duty following a minor illness despite the fact that there is no longer any medical reason. Does this mean that some form of emotional or mental illness is keeping the Captain from his duties? And if the Galactica's Strike Captain is suffering from some form of mental illness, what are the implications for the defense of the Fleet? Or is it something else? There have been rumors that Captain Apollo and his wing-mate, Lieutenant Starbuck, have been cohabiting for several sectons. Could it be that there's already trouble in their little paradise? This reporter, for one, wants to know. How about our viewers? Call in with your comments and questions--"

His hand moved before he thought about it, toggling the power control off. He turned slowly. Warriors snapped to attention before he could order it. He made eye contact with each in turn, making sure they knew he had taken note of who was present.

"Lieutenant Bris. Your patrol was to have launched five centons ago. Where is your wing-mate?"

"Flight Sergeant Giles is on Beta Deck, sir," she said with something less than her usual crisp efficiency.

"I would suggest that you join him, Lieutenant," Apollo said softly. "After your patrol, I will want to speak to you privately. Dismissed."

Bris executed a crisp about-face and fled.

"As for the rest of you, I can only assume that you have duty stations of your own to attend to. If you don't, I'm sure that I can come up with something to better occupy your time." He favored them all with an unfriendly smile. "Unless, of course, you have any questions about my personal life that you would like to ask me yourselves?"

The assembled warriors stared at the wall behind his head.

"I didn't think so. Dismissed."

The room cleared with more haste than decorum, leaving Apollo standing alone with Starbuck and Boomer. Starbuck swore softly until Boomer laid a steady hand on his shoulder.

"You two have a patrol of your own. You'd better get down to Alpha Deck," Apollo said firmly and turned to walk to his office.

"Apollo--"

He turned back.

"Later, Starbuck. The job first."

"Yes, sir," Boomer answered for both himself and Starbuck.

Starbuck nodded reluctant agreement.

Apollo gave him a small quirking smile and let the office door close between them.

It opened again a few centons later.

Apollo looked up, surprised and a little irritated.

"Starbuck, I said we'd talk later--" he started and stopped as he recognized his visitor. "Oh, sorry, Bojay. Come on in, have a seat."

Bojay sat down in the chair across from Apollo and sat for a moment, staring at his lightly clasped hands.

Apollo watched him, a certain amount of unease growing with the length of the other man's silence. He sighed. Today was just getting worse and worse.

"What can I do for you, Boj?" he asked in as businesslike a tone as he could muster.

Bojay blew out a sour breath and ran a nervous hand through his thinning brown hair. He shot Apollo an embarrassed look.

"Listen, Apollo. I know this is probably a bad time..." he broke off as if searching for the words.

"Just spit it out, Bojay," Apollo said.

"Alright, you need to know there are some rumors going around. This training of Tigh's wasn't exactly what everyone was expecting, but you probably already know that," he said diffidently.

"I, ah, I reviewed it," Apollo said sourly.

Bojay nodded. "It was less 'what to do if someone you know,' more 'what to do when it happens to you.' It's kind of shaken people up. The other squadron leaders and I have been fielding a lot of... requests for clarification."

Apollo frowned at that. "It's the first I've heard of it. I haven't seen any--"

Bojay waved him down. "I know. I've been cleaning out your box and handling them for Blue. I figured, what with you still being under the weather..." He shrugged. "Anyway... Apollo, some of the questions are getting pretty personal."

Apollo ran a weary hand over his eyes and silently blessed Bojay for allowing him the obvious euphemism. "Personal how?"

Bojay just looked at him.

"Right," Apollo said disgustedly.

"We've been discouraging idle talk as much as possible, but..." Bojay spread his hands.

"I understand. You can't keep them from talking to each other and the bigger deal you make of it, the worse it'll get."

"Apollo, they're good people and they're smart. They've seen... stuff... since you got back. They're adding the supplemental training and the new PT regimen and Dietra and Cholla's rather sketchy accounts of what went on down on that frakin' planet--"

"And coming up with me," Apollo finished for him bitterly. He closed his eyes tightly, wishing he could... He didn't know what he wished. He just wished.

"Captain," Bojay said sharply and Apollo opened his eyes, surprised.

"Don't let this get to you, Apollo, and whatever you do, don't let this stop you from doing what needs to be done."

Apollo stared at the pilot for a centon and slowly nodded. He leaned back, still studying the other man. "So, what's the verdict so far?"

Bojay leaned back as well, considering his answer.

"Like I said, Apollo, they're good guys and for the most part they like you, although I can't for the life of me figure out why," he answered with a softening grin.

Apollo chuffed out a soft laugh at the familiar dig. It felt normal and he found himself silently thanking Bojay for a second time.

"Mostly, they're worried about you. There are a few who've been trying to whip up a little something, but their squadron leaders are handling it. A couple of guys have found themselves with rather unpleasant programs in their 'randomly selected' PT environments. I'll admit, though, a few of the younger ones are getting a bit spooked."

Apollo frowned again. "About what?"

"Mostly about things that are outside your control. Boomer, Sheba and I are handling those. There is one thing, however, that's bothering a lot of us, Captain," he said soberly. Bojay rose and stepped around the desk to Apollo's side and Apollo instinctively stood to meet him. Bojay reached out and took hold of Apollo's uniform shoulder and gathered up the slack material. "If you want my advice, get yourself up to the quartermaster's and get a couple of new uniforms. Then, whatever it is you're doing to yourself, stop it. You're hurting yourself and you're hurting your squadrons."

Apollo stared stunned for a centon before reasserting control. He shook off Bojay's hand angrily.

"Frak off, Bojay," he said grimly. "You have no idea what I'm doing."

"I know exactly what you're doing," Bojay countered. "You're doing just enough to keep Salik off your back and maybe, maybe, if you're lucky, fool the shrink enough to get you back on the flight rotation without having to actually think about or face up to anything. I've got news for you: it won't work. You can fool Starbuck and Boomer, because they want to believe you. Hades, I've been watching you fool your father for sectons. You can probably fool the shrink if you set your mind to it. Eventually, you'll even fool yourself but then something will happen, some trigger you didn't know existed will come up and you'll be right back where you started -- if you survive."

"Bojay--!"

Bojay backed off, hands raised. "Hey, I know. You don't want to hear it. That's fine. When you do, come see me. There's a group of us who get together once every couple of sectons with a counsellor -- someone you know, by the way, if that little dagget on IFB is right -- just to talk things out. No pressure, no judgement -- and no felgercarb, either. We'll call you on it in a heartbeat."

Apollo ran a hand across the back of his neck. "Radha put you up to this."

Bojay grinned at him. "No, not really. She didn't think you'd be receptive to the idea of a group thing."

"She's right," he answered with a laugh.

Bojay sobered. "When you are, come see me."


	6. Chapter 6

Apollo stood in front of the small vanity mirror in his bed chamber. Boxey wouldn't be home from instructional period for several more centars. Starbuck -- well, Starbuck was back from patrol by now, Apollo was sure, but wouldn't be off duty for at least another two centars. For once since this benighted affair had begun, Apollo was grateful for the extra free time being on light duty granted him. He needed to be alone for this.

It took some effort to raise his eyes to his own reflection. He'd been avoiding it, he knew. Oh, he'd looked at himself, of course. He'd looked every morning just long enough to shave and wash. He'd looked in Radha's office just long enough to identify his own reflection and set about distracting her. It was amazing how much a person could avoid seeing when they set their mind to it, how easy it was to focus on the task of removing the unwanted hair and setting everything else to rights without actually focusing on the body to which they belonged. Apollo was focusing now.

Seeing his image on IFB had shocked him. As shocking as it was to find himself in Bella's crosshairs, however, it was as much the image as the circumstances that had left him frozen. Likenesses were never completely accurate, he knew. Serina had complained about it often enough, the way the two dimensional image transmitted to the scanner had broadened and rounded her features, making her look heavier than she really was. He'd told her he hadn't minded that she didn't look in person the way she did on camera and that had been true. It made it easier to take her places, people hadn't recognized her as quickly as they might have had the Fleet been able to produce one of the fancy three-dimensional transmission arrays she'd worked with back on Caprica Live News. In Apollo's experience, three-D transmissions were pretty much limited to the stellar and planetary topographic displays used in military strategy briefings. Seeing himself, then, even in profile, his features sharpened and defined despite the distortion of the two dimensional likeness, had been startling.

Apollo stared hard at the image in the mirror. His eyes slid past himself by habit. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, then looked again. His eyes seemed larger than usual, deeper somehow, his brow hooded the way his father's was. His cheekbones, always prominent, were stark shapes over narrow cheeks.

He raised a hand to the fastening of his uniform tunic and drew back the front flap of thick fabric to reveal the pressure suit beneath. He wasn't even sure why he was wearing it, out of habit, perhaps, or wishful thinking. He stripped off the tunic and peeled the top of the pressure suit off of his torso quickly enough to avoid thinking about the act. He collarbones stood in sharp relief against his chest. His muscles, never overdeveloped but lean and functional all the same, had started to take on a ropey quality. He looked down at his hands. His hands had always been large, but now seemed unusually so, his fingers thin.

Apollo looked back up and was startled by a movement in the background. Starbuck's blue eyes met his in the reflection.

"Now do you get it, Pol?" he asked hoarsely, his voice rough with restrained anger. "Do you finally frackin' get it?"

Apollo stared at his lover's reflection. His mouth opened of its own volition but no words came.

Starbuck waited a centon then said, voice low but hard-edged, "This has got to stop, Apollo. I love you, but I won't watch you do this to yourself. I can't. It has got to stop."

Starbuck turned away but hesitated as if waiting for something that didn't come. Starbuck shook his head and left, smacking a hand against the door jamb as he did, much as Boxey had done sectons before.

Apollo let him go.

**********************

Dear Lords, what had he done?

Starbuck stared at the glow of the overhead light reflected in the glossy surface of the dinette table.

What had he done?

He raised the ambrosa glass and tossed back a healthy swig, then set the glass back on the table with a light thump.

They'd been working so hard, trying to fix what the Malandri had ripped apart in Apollo.

He'd never had an affair like this one. He'd thought he'd been in love before. He'd even proposed to a couple of lovely ladies who had luckily had greater insight than he did, enough to know better than to tie themselves to a man who didn't even know his own heart. He supposed he had loved them in his own way, at least a little. He'd been honestly fond of all of his lovers but none of them had had the ability to move him the way Apollo could. None of them had hurt him the way Apollo had over these last few sectons. None of them could. Apollo had come out of nowhere for him.

Starbuck would be going nowhere without him and he knew it.

He'd known something was up when Jolly met him in the landing bay after his patrol. The big man had been uncharacteristically solemn and Starbuck had known that it had to be about Apollo.

"He hasn't been out of his office all day, Bucko," Jolly had said, glancing around uncomfortably. Jolly wasn't a worrier and it didn't sit well on him. "And Bojay was in there right after you guys left."

Starbuck had bristled at the mention of the other man. Apollo, bless his oblivious heart, had never even registered the former Pegasus pilot's interest, but Starbuck certainly hadn't missed it. Apollo had taken Bojay's aggression for hostility rather than foreplay and Starbuck, who'd known Bojay quite well during his last tour on the Galactica, had been happy to do nothing to disillusion him. After Apollo and Sheba had officially called it quits, Bojay had walked around for a few sectons with a hopeful air. Apollo had thought he wanted to make a play for Sheba. Starbuck had known better and had made a fast play of his own to finally catch Apollo's attention before Bojay decided to simply trip Apollo and race him to the ground. For a while, Starbuck had wondered if he'd have to employ the same tactic before Apollo finally came around.

He'd hit Blue's Ready Room and Apollo's office as soon as he could after decon, even rushing through his report to the colonel, only to find that the Strike Captain had called it an early day. He'd found Apollo in their quarters, studying himself in the mirror as if he'd never seen himself before and it had all come to a head. All at once the whole long miserable two sectars of watching Apollo slowly decline, of not sleeping wondering and worrying over where he went in the middle of the night when he thought Starbuck wouldn't notice, of counting bites and chivvying him out the door and onto the shuttle for the Rising Star on days when Apollo thought that perhaps he could just skip this one visit with Radha, of having Apollo there but not, of having his lover laying next to him every night but with a space between them so wide that Starbuck couldn't even gauge the distance let alone traverse it -- all of that came upon Starbuck in a rush and just for that moment, he'd had enough.

Without thinking, he'd done the unthinkable. He'd issued an ultimatum to Apollo.

Apollo hadn't answered. Apollo hadn't even come out of their bedroom. It had been almost a centar.

What was he supposed to do, now? What did Apollo want him to do, now? Should he stay? Should he go?

A few sectons ago, if he'd had the temerity to issue a challenge like this, he knew where he would have stood with Apollo -- firmly on the outs. Apollo wouldn't have stood for any kind of manipulation or emotional blackmail from anyone, even less from Starbuck. After these past sectars, though... Starbuck just didn't know, and that scared him more than anything else about the situation. He'd known Apollo for yahrens, loved him for almost as long, but he wasn't sure he knew this new Apollo the Malandri had returned to him. Starbuck couldn't predict what this Apollo would do or say at any given time.

He couldn't predict what would happen when Apollo walked into this room.

What the frack had he done?

"Got any more of that?" Apollo's voice sounded rough.

Starbuck looked up, startled, when a second glass thumped down on the table between them. He nodded slowly and poured for them both.

Both spoke at the same time: "I didn't know if--"

They both stopped then engaged in the polite "you first -- no, you" ritual before they both fell silent again.

Apollo finally broke the silence. "I didn't know."

Starbuck stared at him, confused. "What?"

"I didn't know. I didn't realize how..." Apollo shook his head slowly. "I don't look at myself, Bucko. I never have much, but since... I don't look at myself. I try not to."

Starbuck nodded. "Alright. So what's changed?"

"This morning, that thing on IFB. That likeness of me. I didn't recognize myself at first. For a couple of microns I actually thought they had shown the wrong footage -- a technical glitch or something. Then I realized it was really me."

"I thought it was that little snitrat's report that got to you," Starbuck said softly.

"What? Did she say something?" Apollo asked in a weak imitation of his usual tone. "I didn't notice."

"Someone got hold of your medical records, Apollo! Someone was following you around closely enough to get that likeness and to figure out where you were going!" Starbuck answered heatedly. "That doesn't bother you? It sure as Hades bothers me!"

"I didn't say that, Starbuck. Of course it bothers me. I called Radha and cancelled our next appointment on the Star."

Starbuck stared at him and opened his mouth to argue. Apollo waved him down.

"Apparently, she's here on the Galactica about once a secton anyway on a regular visit. She'll just increase her number of trips and stay longer. We'll meet here or in Life Center." Apollo smiled grimly. "I'd like to see someone get close enough to Salik's domain to annoy either of us."

Starbuck raised his glass again. "For a show like that, we could sell ducats," he said softly. "Someone did get into Salik's domain."

"I know. Security's handling the investigation."

"Security --"

"It's a Security issue, Starbuck," Apollo snapped. "I called Reese and filed a formal complaint. I don't have the energy to argue with them or you right now, so they're going to handle it. Alright?"

Starbuck watched Apollo for a long centon. Apollo looked tired. He also looked like Apollo for the first time in a while with that hint of decisive temper about him. Apollo had decided on how to handle the issue and he'd taken steps to make it happen. It might not have been the same steps he'd have taken before, but steps were being taken, all the same.

"Alright," he said, accepting both his lover's decision and his familiar unwillingness to have his decision second-guessed. He smiled a little as he raised his glass for the last time.

*******************

"Adrenaline."

Salik tossed the medical scanner down on the examination table next to his patient with a loud clatter. Apollo jumped and shot the doctor a questioning glance over his shoulder.

Seeing the startle reflex, Salik's manner softened just a bit.

"Your system is flooded with adrenaline, Apollo. It has been for days. That's why you've had so much extra energy. It's a survival mechanism. Your system is interpreting your excess activity and inadequate sustenance as a fight for survival. Your adrenal glands are working overtime to support your system and keep you going. It's also why you're suddenly feeling tired again. You have been riding a prolonged high, my young friend, and you are about to crash." He glanced over at Starbuck. "He's also about to be admitted."

"What?! Doc, I can't--"

"Oh, you can, Captain, and you will. Cassiopeia will set up a private room for you. Due to recent security concerns, no one but family and your medical team in or out. You're included in the definition of family, Starbuck," he added when the lieutenant looked ready to argue with him.

"Starbuck, you can't--"

"Aht! You heard the man, Pol. You said it yourself, you wouldn't want to take Salik on in his own domain," Starbuck said. He was fighting to hold on to his false cheer, pushing back against an almost overwhelming sense of relief. He felt a bit guilty about it, as if it were a betrayal of Apollo in some way, but he couldn't help but be grateful to Salik for finally stepping in. He caught Apollo's hand in a tight grip. "I'll wait until they get you settled, then go by our quarters and pick up a few things for you. I'll get Boxey, too. Do you want me to bring him here?"

Apollo stared at him, lost for a micron, then nodded. "You'd better. I need to talk to him, show him I'm alright." He looked up in time to catch Starbuck's flinch and looked away again. "You know what I mean," he said, for once not trying to reassure his lover.

***************************

Boomer met him in the corridor outside their quarters.

"Starbuck, what's going on?" he demanded.

"News travels fast," Starbuck said.

"The Life Center Relief notice just came through for Apollo. Megara gave me the heads up. I thought he was doing better!"

"Well, you thought wrong!" Starbuck snapped. "I've been trying to tell you."

He held the door for Boomer to come in then moved past him into the sleeping chamber.

"I've got to get a few things for Pol," he called over his shoulder. "He's going to need something to keep him busy or he'll be driving the medtechs up the walls."

Boomer watched Starbuck for a few centons. The other man's movements were sharp, snappish. After he dropped the same item twice, Boomer moved to his side and picked it up for him and slipped it into the duffel bag Starbuck had laid out on the bed.

"Bucko, sit," he said calmly.

Starbuck sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

"Now, talk to me. What's going on?" Boomer sat on the bed beside his friend.

Starbuck leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"Salik said there were renal enzymes in Apollo's bloodwork," he said softly. "His kidneys were starting to shut down, Boomer. Another couple of days..."

Boomer sat back, stunned.

"How... This morning... He's been running rings around me for days!"

Starbuck laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, that had him fooled, too. He's been running on adrenaline. Apparently, that's one of the more insidious symptoms of what he's been doing -- he was dying, but he felt great while he was doing it."

Boomer shook his head slowly. "What happens now?"

"He's been admitted to Life Center. He'll stay there until Salik's satisfied that he's out of immediate danger and has started to put on a little weight. Radha's on her way over from the 'Star and Salik's talking to Adama right now." Starbuck fell silent for a moment. "I needed to get out of there."

***********************

"I'm sorry, Adama." Salik shook his head ruefully. "We thought we had more time. None of us expected him to deteriorate this quickly."

Adama paced the length of the small waiting area, too restless to sit in the proffered chair. He glanced across the hall and through the open door into the room where Apollo lay encased in a support tube. Cassiopea was leaning over Apollo's tube. She made an adjustment to one of the controls, then reached out and brushed her hand across Apollo's forehead. The two spoke quietly, too softly to carry out to the waiting room.

"We've got him in the tube for the moment mainly to provide his renal system with some support while we stabilize his systems and to allow us to use a feeding tube."

"Feeding tube?" Adama shook his head as if the phrase had no real meaning for him.

"Yes. Apollo hasn't been eating properly since he returned from Malea. We've been monitoring his intake and trying to supplement his diet, but..." The doctor spread his hands. "He's been engaged in a self-destructive physical regimen at the same time. The combination can cause a shockingly rapid decline."

"Shocking," Adama repeated bitterly and rounded on the smaller man. "That's one way to describe it, doctor."

Salik straightened under the commander's glare.

"Commander, we have done everything we can for Apollo, I think you know that as well as I do. But to be perfectly honest, it doesn't really matter what I or Radha or any other doctor does from this point. Apollo has to be willing to do what's necessary to recover. I can heal his body and Radha can try to help him find a way to heal his mind, but his spirit... That's not in any of our hands. We can't do that for him."

Adama's temper dissipated and he nodded, feeling suddenly every one of his one hundred and sixteen yahrens. He turned back to the open door.

"What are your suggestions from this point, doctor?"

Salik sighed. "Well, he's going to be here for a few days at least. After that... I'm not returning him to duty, Adama."

The commander shifted and looked at him inquiringly.

"I'm afraid we may have inadvertently aided Apollo in avoiding some of the issues he's supposed to be dealing with by returning him to duty too soon. Radha concurs." Salik sighed heavily. "To be perfectly honest, Commander, if this had happened before the Destruction I would be recommending that Apollo be returned to his home Colony for hospitalization and, most likely, a medical discharge. Your son came damnably close to killing himself right under our noses and we simply don't have the right kind of facilities to handle his case. As it is..." He shrugged.

"As his father, doctor, I understand your reasoning. I want Apollo whole again as much as you do -- perhaps more. However, speaking as his commander, I can't afford to loose him," Adama said grimly.

"Adama, you may already have."

***********************

"Alright, Tamar, let's take it one more time from the top," Reese said patiently. "You met this guy..." He glanced at his notes. "Toban... a couple of sectons ago."

"Yes," she said. Her hands twisted together on the surface of the conference table. "He said he was an assistant in the astrocartography section on the Rhapsody. He just seemed like a really nice guy."

"Um-hmm. How'd this nice guy end up in the Galactica's Life Center records office with you?"

Tamar sighed. "He just came in while I was working one evening. We had a date and he came by to pick me up, but I wasn't ready. I told him to wait in the lobby, but he followed me into the records office. I just had a little bit left to do, so I let him stay. I didn't think anything of it until you came around asking about that security breach."

"So, what happened?"

"He was asking all these questions about how the scanners work, how we can access patient files through them... and then that extra scanner turned up missing and..." she trailed off. Tamar looked up at Reese appealingly. "I'm going to loose my job, aren't I?"

CSO Supervisor Reese glanced over at his superior. Investigator Kyril shook his head, sighed softly and left the room. Reese turned back to Tamar.

"When's the last time you saw this Toban?" Reese asked.

"That night," she said with a sigh. "He left my quarters around ship's midnight and I haven't seen him since."

Kyril stepped into the next conference room where Colonel Tigh was watching the proceedings on the internal scanner. Tigh glanced up in acknowledgement as Kyril settled into a chair. The tall investigator shifted his weight and stretched out his bad leg.

"So, does this Toban check out?"

Kyril snorted. "The Rhapsody's astrocartographer was very surprised to find out that she had an assistant. She says if we find him to tell him to report for duty. She could use the help."

"Of course."

"He does exist in the Fleet's database," Kyril added. "However, the contents of his file are duplicated under at least three different identities that we know of and there may be more -- don't ask me how he got that one past Fleet Recording, at least not yet. I've got a couple of computer forensics people auditing their system right now. He might have hacked in, but it's more likely he had help on the inside."

"Someone like Tamar," Tigh said with a gesture.

"Probably," Kyril said with a nod. "I can tell you that he's been pulling rations on all three of the identities we know of, and all three have been issued residential quarters. I seriously doubt he's been residing in any of them, but we're checking them out. The one we checked on the Rhapsody turned out to have been illegally sublet to a couple who were supposed to be living on the Freighter Delphi. Who knows who's in their billet of record. According to them, he also does a brisk business in ration ducats -- surprise, surprise. Guy's a one-man black market."

"We knew there was one," Tigh said.

Kyril grinned. "There always is. This guy's up to his armpits in it. I'll be very interested in having a little chat with Sire Toban -- or Loucas or Aja or whatever in Hades his real name is."

*********************

Adama sat in the chair in silence for a long few centons while Apollo looked resolutely at the ceiling in the support tube next to him. Finally, Adama broke the silence.

"I spoke to Athena this morning, Apollo. She admitted what had passed between the two of you." Adama shook his head. "I'm sorry, son."

"Father..."

"She was out of line, I made sure she understood that. I think she had already come to that conclusion on her own, though, in her heart."

Apollo chuffed out of soft laugh. He wasn't so sure of that.

"Athena intimated that you were having far more difficulty than you were willing to admit, that you were hiding the worst of things from me. She seemed to think it was a matter of pride. Couldn't you have come to me?"

"Not with this!" Apollo tried to struggle into a sitting position, ignoring the complaints of the support tube's monitors. "Not... Sir... What was I supposed to say, Father? How was I supposed to explain-- to admit --"

"To admit what, Apollo? That you're human?!" Adama roared back, frustrated.

"That I can't pick up a stylus to sign my name to a report without my hands shaking? That I haven't slept a full night in two sectars because of the nightmares? That I can't be alone with one of my own pilots in a closed room without climbing out of my skin? That I have to talk myself off the ceiling every time someone walks up behind me? Is that what you want to hear from me, Father? Is it what you want to hear from your Strike Captain?!"

Adama shook his head. "All of that has been getting better, son! I've been watching--"

"I'm getting better at controlling it! It's not going away, Father! I'm just learning to work around it!" Apollo gave up the fight with the tube and laid back down. He turned his face away. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, almost plaintive. "It's hard, Father, and sometimes I'm not sure it's worth it."

"Apollo--" Adama reached out a hand to touch his son's hair, only to have Apollo shy away from him.

"I always thought... I mean, I'm a warrior. I always knew that I could loose my life... But, I always thought... When I did have to forfeit my life, it would be in an instant. A compartment would vent into space, or a-a maneuver would fail and a Cylon would get a lucky shot, maybe a flash of light and some pain, and then it would be over. And I thought, that would be okay, you know? It would be good, honorable. Clean." Apollo shook his head, not looking at Adama. His eyes stung and he fought for control. "Not like this," he whispered. "Not like this... There's nothing clean about this. I don't think I'll ever be clean again."

If anyone had asked him, Apollo couldn't have explained why he was rattling on like this to his father. A few centars ago, he'd have given anything to keep Adama from hearing the things that were pouring out of him right now.

He looked over at his father to gauge his reaction and almost laughed out loud at the expression on Adama's face. This was what he'd been really been afraid of, he realized: not the pitying glances, not the disgust he still half-expected to see whenever he knew someone else had worked out what was wrong with him, but this helpless incomprehension on the face of someone who was so used to having all the answers.

Fear, he noted dispassionately. His father was afraid. Some dark emotion welled up from a black corner of his mind and Apollo wondered for a centon just how far he could push that fear.

He looked away, appalled at his own impulse.

"Father, I think it would be a good idea for you to leave now," he said calmly.

Adama watched in dismay as the emotional walls came up around his son. What he'd been hearing was painful, some of it was largely incomprehensible to him, but at the same time he'd rejoiced at finally having a glimpse of Apollo's true state of mind. As a father, he was horrified at what had become of his son; as a commander, he was appalled at the depths of distress he'd missed in one of his ranking officers, one to whom he was supposedly close -- or perhaps too close, he amended. He suspected that he'd willfully blinded himself to Apollo's condition. He could only be grateful that Salik had been so adamant about keeping Apollo off of flight duty. The Lords alone knew what would have happened by now if Apollo had been in a Viper.

Adama settled back into his chair.

"I'm not going anywhere, Apollo. Not just yet."

******************

"Bucko."

_Damn it!_

Starbuck stopped just short of the turbolift doors. He'd thought he'd never shake Boomer off and he just wanted to pick up Boxey and get back to Life Center.

"What is it, Dee?" he asked without turning.

Dietra eyed him. Starbuck out-ranked her -- not by much, and not that Starbuck ever really made an issue of the difference, but his First Lieutenant's pips were a good three yahrens less shiny than her own, so she took in the tension in his back and weighed her words carefully.

"I need to talk to you, Starbuck. About the Captain."

He shook his head. "Not now, Dee."

"I think so, sir. I think it needs to be now," she said stubbornly.

He turned furious eyes to her and she almost took a step back from the dangerous expression on the normally affable lieutenant's face. Almost. She straightened and looked back.

"What about him?" Starbuck rapped out.

"I want... no. I need to know. The rumors going around, about Apollo and what may or may not have happened to him. They're true, aren't they?"

Starbuck's hard glare was all the answer she got and all she needed.

"It was on Malea, wasn't it? While Cholla and I were cooling our heels in the lobby, those daggets were..." Dietra looked away, her vision blurring oddly. She shook her head to clear it.

"I wish it was me," she said softly. "I-- I can't believe we... I wish it had been me."

It would have been better, she thought, easier all around for it to have been her. She nodded to herself, her dark mood coiling around her thoughts so tightly she didn't hear Starbuck until he caught her arm and shook her shoulder to get her attention.

"He doesn't," Starbuck whispered almost violently. "He doesn't wish it, and don't you dare add it to the list of things he's carrying around. Whatever problems you're having with this, they're yours, got it? He doesn't need that."

She stared at him for a micron before nodding. "Understood."

"No, you don't," Starbuck said. He stepped closer, into her face, his voice a low dangerous growl. "They threatened him with that."

Her eyes widened and shock stole her tongue for a micron. He pushed her away and turned back to the turbolift doors. Dietra straightened her back further.

"Understood."

****************

"You talked to Bojay." Apollo's voice was soft with anger, accusing.

Radha watched him for a moment. "About what, specifically?"

"About me."

"No."

"He told me. He's got some kind of group thing. He said you run it and that you didn't think I was ready for it."

She leaned back and sighed. "Bojay made a lot of assumptions, Apollo. Since he told you about the group, I will tell you that I do run a group-therapy circle here on the Galactica. We meet once a secton. Bojay did approach me about an unnamed warrior. He asked me if I thought the person should be approached. I told him that if I or any of my colleagues here had a warrior in our care who we felt would benefit from the group therapy environment, it would be suggested to that individual. That was the extent of our conversation. He made a lot of assumptions and he took a great deal more upon himself than he should have."

He stared at her and she held herself still under the cool gaze, just as she had done during that first session. He was studying her, weighing and assessing, searching for flaws again, the flaws that would allow him to justify ending their sessions. She held his gaze and projected the same calm confidence that had broken down those barriers before. He nodded finally.

"That sounds like Bojay," he conceded stiffly.

"So are we good?" she asked.

He nodded slowly then smiled a little. "For the moment."

She smiled back at him. "For the moment," she agreed.

He shifted slightly in the tube, his gaze wandering to the ceiling again. "He thinks I'm trying to play you. That I'm not really working on-on recovery, just trying to get Salik to sign off on my flight status."

Radha sat back. "Is he right?"

He thought about it carefully before answering. His fingers smoothed a wrinkle in the metallic blanket that covered him from the chest down, hiding the tube's support apparatus. "No. No, he's wrong about that. At first, yeah, maybe that's all I was doing, but... not for a while now."

Radha nodded, accepting his assessment. "Alright. Do you want to talk about what brought you here?"

"Do we have to?"

"We don't have to talk about anything, Apollo."

"Right." He shifted in the tube a bit then blew out a long breath. "God, I feel stupid."

"Why?"

"You were all trying to tell me, and I couldn't see it." He shook his head roughly. "No, that's not right, either. I could... I knew something was wrong with what I was doing, I just..."

He fell silent and she waited.

"I tried to stop," he said finally. "I started hating the workouts, the early centars, the aches and pains. I tried to skip the morning runs, but..."

"The compulsion," Radha said.

"Yeah. It was all I could think about. If I skipped something, I had to make up for it. I felt lousy if I did, but worse if I didn't."

"Worse how?"

"Guilty, like I was shirking something. Irritable. Depressed. I'd get headaches, felt like I was coming down with something, sometimes, until I made up for what I'd missed. Then, this last secton... but now I know what that was," he said derisively.

"Apollo, what you're describing is not uncommon. I've treated a couple of other cases of exercise compulsion, and what you've experienced is typical. Some experts insist that what you're feeling is purely psychological, others point out that the endorphins secreted by our bodies may be at fault. They're psychoactive and they act similarly to some recreational drugs. It's been suggested that under the right circumstances, they could become something similar to an addiction."

He scowled up at her. "So, what I was feeling was _withdrawal?"_

"The symptoms are almost identical," Radha said with a nod. She sighed. "Whichever answer is ultimately correct, what we have to deal with are the effects. Apollo, the only way to break a compulsion is to deny it."

He looked away. "I know."

Radha sat back and studied the data pad in her hands for a few long microns.

"I know we've discussed this before, but there are some medications that could help you over this hurdle--"

"No meds," Apollo shook his head stubbornly. "They're nothing but a crutch."

"Apollo, if you had a broken leg and for some reason had to rely on a splint, would you reject a crutch, then?"

He raised a hand and rubbed it against his forehead in irritation.

"For that matter, antibiotics are nothing more than a crutch for your immune system. Would you refuse those as well? This is no different," Radha insisted. "The medications I would prescribe for you are not habit-forming, but they will ease your anxiety and depression. Once we're both satisfied with the results, we can back you off of them gradually."

"I can't be on active duty if I'm on psych meds," he argued.

"You can't be on active duty _now,_ Apollo."

He closed his eyes and his face twisted as if in pain. "Is Starbuck here?"

Radha glanced through the observation window in the closed door to the waiting area. "He's across the hall. Do you want him, now?"

Apollo nodded.

"Your son's there, too. And your father and sister."

"No, not them. I'll want Boxey in a bit, but not now. I need to talk to Starbuck alone."

Radha rose. "I'll tell them."

"Radha."

She turned back, hand on the door controls.

"Tell Salik what medications you're prescribing."

He sounded so defeated, she thought.

"I will."

******************

Adama watched as the door closed behind his son's lover. Starbuck crossed the room and hitched one hip onto the edge of the support tube. Apollo's hand came up and caught one of Starbuck's, while his lover's other hand moved to caress Apollo's face. Starbuck didn't bother with the fake smile he'd been wearing for the rest of the family, Adama noticed. He raised a hand and keyed the code to opaque the observation window.

Athena was sitting with Boxey, pale except for spots of high color on her cheeks and nose. Boxey was listlessly reading aloud for her from one of his instructional data pads. He knelt down beside the boy and rubbed a hand over the thin shoulders.

"Boxey, I'm going to go talk to the doctors for a few centons. You stay here with your Aunt 'Thena, alright?"

Boxey nodded and returned to his reading.

"Can I have someone bring you something, Athena?" he asked gently.

She shook her head and sniffed sharply. "No, Father, I'm alright."

He patted her shoulder as well as he rose. He found Radha and Salik consulting over Apollo's file in the CMO's office. He cleared his throat softly to get their attention.

"Commander," Salik said with a nod. "Was there something we can do for you?"

"I would appreciate a few centons of Dr. Radha's time, if I may impose," Adama said, gravely polite.

The blonde woman cocked an eyebrow at Salik and rose slowly. "I am at your disposal, sir," she said calmly.

"May I suggest the private consultation room next door?" Salik asked.

"That would be suitable," Adama agreed. He followed the younger woman into the room and closed the door behind them.

"There's not much I can tell you directly about Apollo's treatment, Commander," she stated firmly. "He would have to give me express permission to share details with you, and he has not."

Adama nodded thoughtfully. "I understand that, doctor. May I ask more general questions, though? How common is... Apollo's condition?"

"Specifically? Not very, but not unheard of, either. In a more general sense... it is not unexpected. More than eighty percent of patients who have experienced a traumatic stress response present with a comorbidity of some kind, usually brought on by either the stress of the event itself or by the mind's attempt to compensate for it."

"Eighty percent?"

"Yes," she said with a firm nod. She pulled out one of the chairs and he sat as well. "Usually these take the form of depression, mood disorders or self-abusive behavior. Sometimes -- as in your son's case -- obsessive-compulsive tendencies can be triggered."

"What he was doing was self-destructive," Adama said.

"Technically, yes, but that's not why he was doing it. We have to look at the impulses behind the behavior as well as the specific behaviors themselves. When I have a patient who is truly self-destructive, they may be trying to punish themselves in some way. They may try to gain control over their environment by restrictive eating or behavioral patterns, or they may attempt to self-medicate with drugs or alcohol. Or, they may injure themselves in some specific but non-lethal way in order to express their emotional pain. I once treated a young woman who would cut herself because she said the only way to release the pain was to let it flow out with her blood."

She paused, remembering a girl with short, spiky black hair and soulful brown eyes.

"Apollo told me, before you arrived, that he couldn't stop what he was doing," Adama said.

"Yes, that's why I'm classing his condition as obsessive-compulsive in nature."

"You said that this was a tendency that had been triggered?"

"OC behavior doesn't just happen, Commander. The tendency has to be present in the individual. It tends to run in families, which suggests a genetic component."

"No one in our family has done what Apollo has."

"The tendency isn't always triggered," Radha shrugged. "And it doesn't always take the same form. Some people become workaholics, others wash their hands repeatedly, some may count steps when they're under stress. Most obsessive-compulsive behaviors actually don't interfere with the individual's daily life at all, and in some cases may prove beneficial. The person may seem a bit quirky to others, or may have no visible traits. It depends on the individual."

A memory stirred. "I used to tease my wife when we were younger. I always knew when she was worried about something, because she would count things. The children's clothing, the silverware, it didn't really matter what. I used to threaten to buy her a set of prayer beads, so she'd always have something to count. She said it calmed her and helped her think. Physical exertion has always had the same effect for Apollo, especially running, but never like this."

"There are other factors involved in this case, sir, but now we are treading dangerously close to matters I really can't discuss with you at this time."

Adama nodded and rose. "I've taken up enough of your time, doctor. The young woman you mentioned... was she among the survivors?"

"No. She died with Scorpia."

"I'm sorry."

Radha smiled softly. "So am I. She had a lovely singing voice. Go in peace, Adama."

********************


	7. Chapter 7

Life or Death Was All, chapter 7:

He was up and moving again. Radha watched as Apollo prowled the confines of the small private room restlessly. He reminded her of the animals she'd once seen in a zoo on one of the Picean moon colonies, crowded into too small cages for the entertainment and education of children who were unlikely to ever see an animal of any sort otherwise.

"So, how have the last few days been?"

Apollo glanced over at her. He scratched at an eyebrow. "Alright, I guess."

With tells like that, it was no wonder Starbuck wouldn't let him wager with his own money on the 'Star, she thought ruefully. She tried another tack.

"How's Starbuck doing?"

He glanced at her and away. His restless movements slowed to a stop.

She cocked her head. "Apollo?"

"I don't know what to do about Starbuck," he said softly.

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head and ran a hand through his dark hair. "This isn't fair to him. None of this is. He shouldn't have to... I told him he should move back into the barracks."

Radha nodded. "What did Starbuck say to that?"

Apollo laughed softly. "He said I could toss him out if I wanted, but seeing as he's there and I'm in Life Center, I'd have to send Security to do it. He reckons he can take me in my current state."

"He treated it like a joke."

"Yeah."

"Were you serious about wanting him to move out?"

The prowling started again. "Yes. No. Yes. I do want him to move out."

"Why?"

"For him. For his sake." Apollo swung back to face her and threw his hands out. "Look at me! Look at this! How can he--" He shook his head and left the thought unfinished. He sounded bewildered when he resumed. "He was angry. He treated it like a joke, but he was angry."

"Do you love Starbuck?"

"Yes. God, yes."

"If something similar had happened to Starbuck, if he was in your place now, would you let him dismiss you?"

"Dismiss." Apollo stared at her. "You say that like I was... I wasn't trying to-- It's for his own good!"

"Think about it, Apollo. How well would that argument play with you?"

He was silent for a moment. "I'd want to kick his astrum," he said reluctantly. "God, I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Doing what?"

"Making decisions for him. Even before... Hades, before we even got together: 'You've got all the answers, don't you, Apollo?'"

"Was that Starbuck?"

"Yeah. And he's right. I do try to... I don't know... push my ideas on other people, I guess." He laughed again, ruefully. "That's one of the reasons we're so good together. He'll take my orders, but he won't let me push him around."

"He stands up to you."

"I need that. I need someone who'll get in my face when I try to get into theirs." He scrubbed roughly at suddenly moist eyes. "I need him."

He fell silent and paced to the far wall again. He stopped, hands against the wall at chest height and pushed against the wall in a standing push-up before pushing away to pace once more.

Radha cocked her head at him. "What are you thinking about right now, Apollo?"

He glanced at her and flashed one of his self-deprecating grins. "Honestly? Dropping to the floor for about a hundred and fifty push-ups."

"It's not your scheduled PT time," she reminded him.

"I know!" he snapped.

This time when he reached the wall, he punched it -- not as hard as he could have, Radha noticed, but still...

"How's the loridinal working for you?"

Apollo flushed slightly. "Sorry."

"No problem. I was asking seriously."

He scrubbed a hand over his head. "Loridinal. That's the anxiety stuff, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Good. Better than I was expecting."

"How so?"

"I was expecting to be, I don't know, numb, I guess. Fuzzy."

"But you aren't."

"No. I just don't get as jumpy, or-or irritable." He tossed his head back toward the wall he'd just pounded. "Usually."

"This is hard work," Radha acknowledged.

"Yeah."

"How about the Zalil -- the depression stuff," she added quickly with a small smile.

"I didn't really notice much change the first secton."

"It has to build up in the system first."

He nodded. "That's what Salik said. This last secton, though... It's been better."

"Really?"

"Yes. It has. I didn't really notice it at first, but then yesterday--" He broke off and looked down, one hand rising to rub between his eyes.

"What happened yesterday?" she prompted.

"I realized... It had been a couple of days since I'd thought about dying," he finished in an uncomfortable rush.

Radha studied him for a few microns. "You hadn't mentioned that before."

"I know. I didn't... I didn't think it was anything serious, really. Just a flash now and then. I didn't think about it when we had a session."

"Would you have told me if you had?"

"Probably not. You'd have put me in Life Center on suicide watch."

"If I'd thought you were seriously contemplating doing harm to yourself, yes, I would have."

"See, that's just it. I wasn't seriously contemplating anything. It was just these flashes. It wasn't like I was really thinking about it," Apollo argued. "At the time, it just seemed like something I should keep to myself."

"And now?"

His eyes widened slightly as he nodded. "It's... kind of scary to think about." He looked back up at her. "I was armed, the whole time. I had a weapon strapped to my leg every day."

"Did you consider using it?"

"No, not that." He shook his head emphatically. "My senior yahren at the academy, one of the lower level cadets tried to commit suicide with a hand-laser over one of the breaks. He missed. It took off part of his face and seared away part of his frontal lobe, but didn't kill him. I was Senior Cadet, so I went with his class leader to see him and his family in Caprica City Life Center afterward. I'll never forget that. No way.

"Like I said, I didn't actually think about it. Just... flashes. It's just scary to know that I could have done it at any time."

"That is scary," she acknowledged. "How often did you have these 'flashes' about dying?"

"Every day."

************************

Adama considered his colonel over the rim of his hobnail goblet. Despite the fact they were old friends, it was rare for Tigh to remain and simply sit with Adama after delivering his final report for the day. Of course, those reports weren't usually delivered so late in the ship's evening. The colonel had been working some long shifts, liaising with the investigation team from Council Security. It was the latest report from CS that had brought Tigh's current visit.

"Director Eirian is stepping in."

"Oh?" Adama cocked an eyebrow as he took another sip of ambrosa. It wasn't often that the Investigative Director personally took charge of one of her investigator's cases.

"It seems Kyril's investigation has overlapped with one of her cases -- a woman named Lorisse who was a tech with Fleet Recording. She was found beaten and strangled in her billet three sectons ago. Eirian's team was following a trail of fraudulent entries she had made. It seems she was getting kickbacks in the form of both ration ducats and credits from our Sire Toban, among others. According to the CS forensic accountant, her percentages had been steadily rising over recent sectars."

"She got greedy," Adama surmised.

"So it would seem," Tigh agreed. "She must have exceeded her worth, for someone."

"Not this Toban?"

"Possibly not. The last man she was seen with was reported to be tall but physically larger than the man we're after. A similar man was seen exiting her corridor the night before her body was discovered. He was remembered because he was a stranger to the local residents. Kyril doubts it was Toban."

Tigh raised his own glass before continuing: "Eirian will want him."

Adama looked at him sharply.

"If Toban can help them with their case, Adama, Council Security will want to negotiate with him. Eirian's deliberate human termination case takes precedence over our security breach."

Adama looked for a moment as if he wanted to argue. Tigh knew, of course, that as Fleet Commander Adama could press the issue and force Council Security to leave Toban to them, but undermining Security's authority -- and through them, the Chief Accuser's -- wasn't the commander's way. It would be bad for fleet morale to see the legal authority flouted by the Galactica's commander himself and Adama would know that. It wouldn't stop him from wanting to do it, though. He watched as Adama came to the same conclusions.

The Fleet Commander sighed and waved a dismissive hand. "Let them have him. We want whoever hired him more."

Tigh nodded. "I thought as much. Eirian says she'll be happy to make that part of the negotiations. She's fairly certain she'll unearth him soon. There have been a couple of complaints about attempted blackmail utilizing some of the stolen Life Center data. Apparently, Apollo's medical records weren't the only ones opened before Salik changed the access codes.

"Speaking of Apollo," Tigh continued. "How is he? I haven't been able to see him with the security measures in place."

"No. Salik still thinks it best to keep many people away from him, especially with some of what's been going on with IFB."

Tigh nodded. Bella wasn't making any friends among the warriors, but she seemed to be the hottest ticket on IFB lately.

"He seems to be in better spirits," Adama continued. "And Salik says his health is improving steadily."

Tigh's perceptive dark eyes studied Adama. "What of you, old friend?"

Adama's lips tightened. He shook his head irritably and for an instant Tigh saw the son clearly in the father.

"I am just so _furious_ with him!" The answer seemed to erupt from within Adama.

"Of course you are," Tigh answered tightly. "Adama, you have every right to be angry with him."

"Perhaps, perhaps... But I can't help but feel it's counterproductive."

"Has any other approach been productive?" Tigh asked acerbically. "Maybe what he needs is to _know_ that you're angry."

He waved a hand as Adama turned to argue with him. "I'm not saying to tell him you're angry with him about what happened to him, but about lying to you? Hiding the worst of what was going on? Not trusting his family? Damn right, you should be angry and he should know about it."

"I told you what Athena said to him," Adama said heavily. "How he reacted to her anger."

"That was different," Tigh said. "What she said, the way she said it... She was out of line. I don't mean that you should take out your frustrations on him the way she did, but just tell him. You know, in a way, you're being as dishonest as he is."

Adama's dark eyes snapped back to him.

"You know that's true, Adama. You haven't been honest with him, almost from the beginning of this entire mess. You've been tiptoeing around him as if he was an armed solenite pack with a shaky detonator. I may not know Apollo as your son as well as you do, but I do know the man -- perhaps better than you. I can tell you, the man I know wouldn't appreciate the pussyfooting from you."

************************

_High-pitched trilling laughter filled the air around him, coming from all sides out of the surrounding mist. They were coming for him. He ran, stumbled as blue hands rose from the almost ankle-deep mud and snatched at his legs as he passed. He was falling, hands out to catch himself..._

Apollo started awake with a soft grunt. His eyes adjusted slowly to the faint light. A couple of the monitors cast a soft greenish glow. He turned his head at a sound and found a dark shape huddled in the chair next to his bed.

"Starbuck?" he whispered, voice rough from sleep.

Starbuck shifted again and roused. "Hey. Did I wake you?"

"What are you doing here?"

Starbuck yawned and stretched. "Got back from patrol..." He glanced at his chronometer and grunted. "Two centars ago. Couldn't sleep, so I came here."

"You should get some rest," Apollo said, frowning.

"Hey, I'm not the one talking through my sleep period, buddy," Starbuck said as he slouched further down into the hard molded chair.

"You'll put your back out trying to sleep like that."

"I'm not sleeping on the floor, oh, my prince," Starbuck said dryly.

Apollo smiled faintly at the reference. There was an old Caprican legend about a prince who was threatened by a wraith he was forced to fight off every night. The nightly visitations had suddenly stopped and the prince didn't know why until he awoke in the middle of the night to find his most faithful companion sleeping in full armor on the floor at the foot of his bed. The story had been one of Apollo's favorites when he was a boy.

He slid over a bit and held up the blanket in invitation.

Starbuck didn't move for a micron. "You sure?" he asked softly. "It'll be a little crowded."

"Not as much as the support tube would have been."

Starbuck snorted softly. "I'll give you that," he said as he pulled off his boots and shucked the flight jacket. He slipped in next to Apollo.

Both men shifted onto their sides, a hands-breadth between them.

"Good night," Apollo whispered.

"'Night," Starbuck answered and closed his eyes.

_They were back, this time with the sound of falling water. Hands pulled at him roughly, dragging him into the wet dark. He opened his mouth to shout, but his voice was drowned by the sound of the rain. He could see his family, his friends, warriors he commanded. He could see the shadows moving toward them and shouted again, in warning, for them to run, save themselves, but still they stood, milling about, insensible to the danger that was closing on them..._

Apollo woke again with a start. He stared at Starbuck's profile in the dim light. His lover's breathing was deep and steady, and he'd moved in his sleep so that he was lying on his back in the narrow space provided by the Life Center cot.

A minute shift, and it felt as if a block of ice in Apollo's chest suddenly gave way. For a micron he couldn't breathe. Tentatively, he moved closer and laid his head on Starbuck's chest. Starbuck shifted again in his sleep and one arm rose to settle loosely around Apollo's back, curling over his hip, drawing him closer still. Apollo lay in the dark and allowed Starbuck's warmth and heartbeat and the sound of his slow, steady breathing to lull him back into sleep.

************************

Apollo stood in the corridor and eyed the closed compartment door, undecided. He tapped the data pad nervously in one hand until he realized what he was doing and shoved it irritably into a pocket. He was being ridiculous. This entire idea was ridiculous. A sudden noise -- a brief snatch of conversation and a sharp bark of laughter as two crewmen walked past the end of the corridor behind him -- made him jump. He closed his eyes for a micron to catch his breath and give his heart a chance to slow.

God, he was back to jumping at shadows. Alright, he had to make a decision. Preferably before anyone noticed the Galactica's Strike Captain loitering pitifully in the enlisted crew residence corridors.

Strike Captain -- at least that was still true, even if he was on forced medical leave for the time being, Apollo thought bitterly. How long? How long would Salik insist on keeping him from his duties -- before, in all honesty, he was able to perform those duties? How long could the Commander remain without a permanent Strike Captain?

It had been almost two more sectons before Dr. Salik had been willing to release Apollo from Life Center. He'd had to prove to the doctor that he was able to find ways to deal with the anxiety and the compulsion to sweat it out physically before the doctor would relax the almost constant observation and allow Apollo to leave a few centars before.

He wasn't even sure what he was doing here. He'd just needed to get out of the compartment for a while. He'd been released from Life Center in the middle of the ship's morning. Boxey was already in study period, Starbuck was already on patrol and Apollo was already slowly going insane from cabin fever. He'd looked up the compartment on a whim when he'd realized what deck he was on.

What did he think would happen? What did he want?

He took a deep breath and touched the call-button.

"Coming, coming," the deep voice groused from inside as the door slid open. Birre straightened somewhat upon seeing his visitor. "Captain. What can I do for you, sir?"

Doubt flooded Apollo's mind and he hesitated. Birre studied him for a micron, then stepped aside.

"Come in, son," he said firmly. He turned away as Apollo entered and allowed the door to the small compartment to slide shut.

The place was one of the smaller private compartments that were assigned to married enlisted warriors should they decide against choosing a billet for their spouses elsewhere in the fleet. A full-sized bed crowded one side of a room that did double duty as bedchamber and sitting room. A tiny galley -- more of a narrow shelf with cupboards and a couple of heating elements -- was located on the back wall. The head was shared between this and the next compartment, Apollo knew. It was a stingy arrangement that had originally been intended for single occupants, but space in the fleet was limited. There were larger families than Birre's crowded into similar spaces along this corridor.

"Have a seat. The wife's off down the corridor for a bit. Crewman Tobias' Margit is about ready to pop any day now, so the wife says. It'll be a little girl. She's usually right about these things." He sat down heavily on one of the two chairs next to the fold-down table that served for both dinette and desk. "Myrtha's Canceran. You know how they are."

"I've heard stories," Apollo acknowledged with a non-committal nod.

Birre snorted. "They're all true -- or at least that's what they'll tell you."

Cancerans were known for their odd blending of hard-nosed practicality and mystic sensibility, likely a product of a too-rapid introduction to the universe beyond their own atmosphere. When the other colonies were getting reacquainted with each other more than a thousand yahrens before, two of them, Cancera and Piscea, were, as his first-yahren academy history text had tactfully put it, "following a path of alternative development." One that had involved neither artificial lighting nor indoor plumbing, one of his classmates -- a scion of one of the more cosmopolitan Canceran families -- had commented sarcastically. While the other colonies debated whether or not to leave their unindustrialized cousins to develop on their own, the Cylons had made the decision for them. Both colonies had been initiated swiftly and brutally.

Birre poured from a decanter of clear liquid on the table. "Water," he grunted in explanation. "I'd offer something stronger, but the wife doesn't approve. Can't even sneak in a flagon at the end of shift. Woman's got a nose like a trail-dagget."

Apollo took the proffered glass. "Besides," he said agreeably. "She's Canceran."

"Exactly. You know what I mean," Birre said easily. "Hey, d'you catch that Triad match IFB aired last night?"

"Is that what that was supposed to be?" Apollo asked, grateful for the save. He hadn't been sure what to say.

"It's what they advertised," Birre acknowledged. "What in Hades was Tyber doing with that ball?"

"I don't think I want to know," Apollo said mournfully as he settled back in his chair. "What I do want to know is what that officiator was smoking during the second half."

"And where can we get some," Birre agreed.

Apollo chuckled softly and felt the knot between his shoulders ease a bit as the conversation flowed naturally. More than a centar passed while he and the sergeant talked about a variety of things and nothing at all. Eventually, the conversation wound down to an almost companionable silence.

A thought stirred and Apollo turned it over for a few microns before giving it voice.

"This is normal, now, isn't it?"

There wouldn't be any getting back to normal. He'd realized that, finally really understood it, sitting in this chair in Birre's tiny compartment. This was normal.

Birre looked at him steadily and nodded. He didn't have to ask what Apollo meant. He knew.

"Normal's what you make of it, Apollo."

Apollo set down his water glass carefully. "Well," he said, then stopped.

Birre studied him out of the corner of his eye. The man looked more settled than when he'd arrived. That was something.

"I'd better leave you to the rest of your day off," Apollo finished. "Instructional period will be out soon."

"Yes, sir, it will. Little hellions will be screaming along the corridors and up to mischief soon enough."

Apollo grinned as he rose. "I'd better go keep mine out of it."

Birre walked him to the door.

Apollo turned again and paused, not quite sure what to say. He settled on: "Thanks."

"Any time, son."

************************

Apollo leaned against the wall outside the Education Center. Several other parents were gathered in small groups of two or three along the corridor. Most gave him his space, although the surreptitious glances and whispers were starting to get to him. A couple of men with whom he'd occasionally passed the time while waiting for Boxey didn't acknowledge his presence. He kept his face and body language relaxed and impassive. Damned if he would give them the satisfaction of showing his nerves.

Of course, that wasn't right, either, he thought. He'd seen the stories that had flown fast and furious on IFB immediately following his hospitalization. He knew the kinds of rumors that had been making the rounds. He had, in fact, insisted that Starbuck fill him in on them, needing to know what he'd be facing once he was released, which meant that he also knew that not all of the speculation was negative. People had heard a lot of different things and none of them had come from Apollo himself or the commander. Their curiosity was understandable. None of this should be coming as a surprise to him, but still... There was a big difference between knowing something was coming and actually experiencing it.

Apollo stifled the urge to sigh. His earlier gloom was threatening to return.

"Captain. It's good to see you, sir."

He turned his head and looked over at the man who had spoken. He couldn't recall his name, but recognized the blue bridge uniform and the lieutenant's pips and nodded in greeting. It seemed to be enough for him. He nodded back and leaned against the wall next to Apollo. They waited silently for the doors to the Educational Center to open.

****************************

"Dad!"

Boxey pulled his hand free of Athena's with a jerk and took off at a run. She watched as Apollo straightened quickly from the corridor wall, grinning as Boxey practically flew the last few metrons and into his arms. Athena had known Apollo had been released, Adama had called to tell her, but she hadn't expected her brother to meet them here. She'd hoped to walk Boxey back to Apollo's quarters so she could try to talk with him there, in private.

Her face heated when Apollo's eyes met her's for an instant, then swept past her as if she weren't even there. Standing alone, she watched as father and son turned and disappeared down a suddenly crowded and noisy corridor, Apollo smiling at Boxey's high-speed chatter.

*****************************

Tyre resisted the urge to close her eyes to count to twenty. No way was she closing her eyes or turning her back on this one, she'd learned that much at least, in the almost full yahren since earning her defenders' credentials. Two more sectars, she reminded herself grimly. Two more sectars and her internship with the Fleet Public Defenders Office would be history.

"Yrt, as your appointed defender, I advise you--"

"Unless you're on your knees, slit, shut your _damn hole!"_

Investigative Director Eirian leaned comfortably against the conference table in the next room watching via scanner as Tyre wrangled with her client. Beside her, Kyril shook his dark head.

Eirian had paid her own dues in the Canceran Council for Indigent Defence two lifetimes ago: before the plush offices of Rhys, Emmert and Eirian; before the Destruction and Sire Loran's invitation to put her skills to use in Council Security's Investigative Division. The mandatory yahren of public defence was considered to be character-building for young defenders. Tyre was building character as they watched, she thought to herself with a small grin.

Yrt was about as big and ugly as they came. He was possibly the largest man Eirian had ever seen, big even for a Virgan. His nose had been broken and left to heal without benefit of a bone-knitter at least once in the past and his once-muscular frame was running to fat from the enforced idleness of life in the Fleet for the majority of passengers. The sores around his mouth and sallow cast to the oily skin that covered his bald head suggested that he was trading his protein ration ducats for cheap ambrosa from the illegal stills that were operating in some of the less savory areas of the Fleet.

It had been the big Virgan's ugliness, his distinctiveness, that had allowed witnesses to identify him so quickly from only a brief encounter. Yrt had had more than one encounter with Council Security in the two yahren since the Fleet had taken to the stars: assault, public intoxication, petty theft, assault of a CSO -- twice -- more assault. Yrt had a temper and an inclination to use his fists. How he'd managed to stay off the prison barge was one of the Lords' own mysteries. Once identified, however, it had taken somewhat longer to find him in the labyrinthine underbelly of the massive freighter in which he billeted.

"Shall we give her a break?" Eirian asked lightly.

"It would be a kindness," Kyril responded.

In the interview room, Tyre tried again. "Yrt, I have been retained by the Fleet on your behalf. When the investigators get in here, don't say anything unless I tell you to. I'll do the talking for you."

"The day I need some goddamned _daggit-queen_ to do my talking for me, is the day you can cut off my _shriveled up dick!"_

Tyre flinched back as her client half-rose over her and pounded the surface of the conference table with meaty fists.

"Hmm," Kyril's commander said. She cocked her head. Her short dark brown hair brushed against the short raised collar of her loose white blouse. "Is he drunk?"

Kyril shrugged. "On stupidity, maybe."

Eirian had seen enough. She pushed herself up from the edge of the table and walked into the next room, Kyril in tow.

"Well, hello, again, Yrt," she said brightly. "Imagine seeing you in our little establishment."

"Another goddamned slit," Yrt growled as he lowered his bulk reluctantly into his chair.

"It's a plague," Eirian agreed cheerfully as she slipped into the chair across from the mountainous man.

Tyre had recovered a bit from her scare. "Yrt, shut your golmonging mouth," she snapped from between gritted teeth. She scooted her chair back to the edge of the table and prepared to do her job.

"Get the frack out, you damned slit!"

Tyre glanced across the table at Eirian who simply cocked an eyebrow at her. It was the defender's call and, really, who could blame her? Tyre turned back to her client.

"Are you formally dismissing me, and through me the Fleet Public Defender's Office, from duty?" she asked for the record.

"Yeah, goddamn it! You're formally dismissed," Yrt answered in a mocking drawl. "Get the frack outta my face, frackface!" He grinned at his own clever turn of phrase.

"With pleasure," Tyre said with a gusty sigh. "Director, he's all yours. Enjoy." She exited in a snap of booted heels.

Eirian and Kyril watched the public defender's exit with a certain satisfaction.

Eirian turned back to her suspect.

"Let's chat, Yrt." She snapped a standard ID likeness down on the table between them. "Data Tech Lorisse, Fleet Recording."

Lorisse hadn't been a particularly attractive woman in life. Thin lips, flat features, fair hair, pale grey eyes: it was a face more remarkable for its lack of color than for any of its plain features.

Yrt sneered. It didn't improve his appearance.

"What about her? Don't tell me that little daggit had the pogees to whine that I slapped her around a little." He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and grinned widely. "Stupid little slit."

If either Eirian or Kyril were surprised by his admission, they didn't show it.

Eirian shrugged. "Yeah, well, you know how it is. Let's hear your side of it, alright?"

Yrt scoffed. "Little slit did some work for me a while back. I paid her, all fair. Then she comes back and says I need to pay her more. Says her supervisor's sniffing around in her files. Says I gotta pay her again, '_in recompense for her continued risk_,'" he sneered mockingly. "I paid her, alright. Bounced her around her billet, but good. Stupid slit."

"What kind of work did she do for you?" Kyril asked.

Yrt grinned. "Find out for yourself, frak-hole."

"We will," Eirian said calmly. "When did you arrive at Lorisse's billet?"

"I was waiting right outside her work station on the Canaris. Told her I had something for her. Walked her home, gentleman-like," Yrt said with another grin.

Eirian nodded. That fit with the witness' statements so far.

"When did you leave?"

Yrt shrugged. "Our business took about a centar. I left on the next shuttle."

That fit, as well. The Canaris was a large ship, large enough to have its own fleet of shuttles that had somehow miraculously never been commandeered by the Galactica. Captain Iason, a businessman to the core, had quickly found a way to turn a cubit, selling ducats and running a regular schedule of shuttle flights between ships. The clerk from the ducat office had remembered Yrt, as had the flight officer from Canaris shuttle flight two.

Eirian nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm surprised, Yrt. I didn't expect you to be so forthcoming," she said genially.

Yrt shrugged again, complacent. "Why not? So, I cop a coupla sectars in the brig for smacking a slit. Ain't the first time. daggit's gonna get worse. She can't come around whining about me knockin' her around a little without me telling why she needed knockin'." He grinned toothily. "I'll be happy to make a statement, seeing as I'm bein' an upstandin' citizen and all."

Eirian leaned back and considered the man in front of her. "We'll be more than happy to take that statement, Yrt. Kyril, send in CSO Panil to continue the interview with this upstanding citizen."

"Yes, ma'am," Kyril said and rose to follow Eirian as she exited the interview room.

"Well, Hades," she swore softly as they entered her office.

Kyril glanced back as the door slid closed behind them, then lowered himself stiffly into the chair across from Eirian's desk. "I hate to tell you this, boss--"

"He didn't terminate her," she snapped irritably. "I noticed that, yes. He thinks she's still alive and complaining."

Kyril nodded in agreement. "I suppose he could be bluffing," he said consideringly.

Eirian snorted.

Kyril grinned. "I don't think so, either. Too stupid to bluff that well."

She sighed. "We've got him for the assault and whatever else the idiot's happily confessing to in there."

Kyril sobered. "Solon'll want him before a tribunal for the termination, too."

Eirian grunted. "_I_ wanted him for the termination. We're both going to be disappointed."

"Solon'll pitch an unholy fit," Kyril warned. "He could get the conviction. It would be tidy."

The Fleet's Chief Accuser liked things tidy.

"Let him pitch. He can't order me to recommend termination charges against a man who didn't terminate anyone. Especially one who's waived his right to a defender, the astrum."

Sire Solon wouldn't scruple to it, he'd proven that in the past, but Eirian's defender's gut roiled at the idea of pinning a termination charge on someone she was certain hadn't done the deed. She pushed thoughts of the smug accuser out of her mind and called up the crime-scene images on the office scanner.

Lorisse's contorted features filled the scanner screen, more colorful in death than in life. Livid bruises spread out across her neck, almost overwhelmed by the mass of torn, bruised and abraded flesh of her face. Her lips were swollen and split and Eirian knew from the physician's report that several of her teeth were missing or loosened. There was another split along her left cheekbone surrounded by purple bruises. Her matted hair was streaked with her own blood. The grey eyes stared, cold and filmed, the whites stained with petechiae.

"If Lorisse was alive when Yrt left her, someone else came in afterwards. She was strangled. It's not Yrt's style. If he'd killed her, it would have been an accident, a result of the beating she took. He'd have bashed her head in, not wrung her neck."

"No one we interviewed reported seeing anyone else in the vicinity," Kyril reminded her.

"No one reported seeing anyone out of place in the vicinity," Eirian corrected. "That only means he wasn't out of place."

"Or he blended in," Kyril suggested. He cocked an interrogatory eyebrow at his director. "He? Or she? She couldn't have put up much of a fight with a concussion and a broken wrist."

Eirian stared at the scanner, lost in thought. The room receded into a vague haze. She imagined the scene as the terminator must have seen it: Lorisse lying across her bed, stunned or unconscious. No, just stunned, moaning softly. There was nothing better than an opportunity. Large hands reached out and took it, wrapping themselves around the slim neck, watching her eyes grow huge as she recognized him and realized what was happening, but was too weak and stunned and hurt to do anything about it. Tiny blood vessels popped in the sclera of her eyes as the life went out of them.

"No," Eirian said softly. "Him. Call it a hunch. Check out her other clients. How're you coming on this Toban character?"

Kyril shifted to take the weight off of his right hip and leg. The Galactica's bone-knitter had only been able to do so much with Kyril's crushed leg and pelvis in those first desperate sectons of the flight from the Colonies and now the damned thing ached in the chill he never seemed to be able to get away from in the Fleet. It was Kyril's private souvenir of Saggitaria's destruction.

"Talk about someone who blends," he said with a snort.

"No one's seen him? None of the surveillance cameras have hit on him?"

Kyril sighed. "Well, we've run into a bit of a problem with that. It seems the likeness we've been using has been tampered with."

Eirian focused on him, surprised. "It matched the witness' description of him. Tamar identified it as him."

"Minor alterations turned up in an examination of the likeness. It looks basically like him, but not quite. He altered the shape of the eyes a bit and the width of his nose and jawline. It's enough to throw off the facial recognition program. We also think he's changing his appearance from time to time and identity to identity. Hair and eye color are easy enough to change and can make a big impact on appearance. I've got the techs running programs to filter out his changes and extrapolate what he should look like from what we've got, but he was ordinary enough as it was. When we added an additional standard deviation to the recognition filter, the computon search returned a third of the male complement of the Fleet. It's another layer of uncertainty to work through."

Eirian nodded. "What about this scheme of his? You ever run something like this?"

Kyril grinned at the reference to his own less than pristine past.

"Oh, yeah. It's a pretty basic con, really. Nothing fancy, if you've got the skill or know someone who does. That's another avenue to try. We've got the contact information that couple on the Rhapsody used to get in touch with him. It's probably worthless now, but there's a chance we could use it to pull a little con of our own. He's going to need a new data person. If we cool the investigation, let him think we've given up or that he's not important enough for us to worry with, we might be able to pull him in. I wanted to get a better idea of where and who he was first, though." He chuckled softly. "It's always best to know what your mark looks like."

"Get Tamar back in, set her up with a tech. Get a good likeness of this guy to work with."

********************

Apollo had found the day more tiring than he'd anticipated. His visit with Birre had been somehow both settling and disquieting, and he'd forgotten about the constant activity of living with a small boy. He peered into the small cooler in his in-quarters galley and pulled out something that looked like recent left-overs. He poked under the cover. A little water and a handful of varum grain would stretch it to feed three.

The vague depression that had been nagging him since leaving Life Center was growing stronger. He glanced over at the chronometer. Another centar, and it would be time for his meds. The thought still bothered him.

Apollo set about making dinner as much to distract himself as for any other reason. He pulled out a cooking pot and set it onto the inset heating element and emptied the contents of the bowl into it.

"What are you doing, Dad?" Boxey called, curious. It had been a while since Apollo had left him sitting at the dinette table with colored pencils and paper -- the backs of some old silly reports or something. The Viper taking form under his colored pencils was the best he'd ever drawn. His dad would like it a lot and so would Starbuck.

The soft noises from the galley stopped, but Apollo didn't answer. Boxey looked up from his coloring, vaguely worried that his father had left without saying anything. Apollo was standing and just looking at the small saucepan on the range.

"Daddy?"

Apollo didn't seem to hear him, just stood there. His father frowned and shook his head slightly. Boxey wondered what he'd done. He chewed a lip unconsciously. If Dad was mad at him, he might go away again. Starbuck and Grandfather and Aunt 'Thena had all told him that his dad hadn't been mad at him, that he'd been sick and that was why he'd been away in Life Center for so long, but in his heart, Boxey just wasn't sure they really knew. His father always said it was better to face up to something he'd done, and even if he wasn't quite sure what it was this time, Boxey decided that he was probably right. He rose and walked slowly into the galley.

Apollo started when Boxey took his slack hand and looked down at his son.

"Boxey!" he said softly. He looked a little confused for a micron, then his expression cleared and he gathered Boxey up with one arm and settled him on his hip.

Boxey squirmed a bit to get comfortable in his new perch. He was getting a little big for his dad to carry around like a baby, but he wouldn't say so yet. Apollo hadn't picked him up like this in a long, long time and it felt good to be held. Boxey laid his head against Apollo's shoulder and watched as Apollo took the spoon and began to stir the food in the saucepan again. He was reheating leftovers from last night. Boxey's nose crinkled a bit. He didn't like leftovers. Starbuck didn't, either. His dad sure seemed to, though.

Apollo's hand stilled again and Boxey felt the arm supporting him relax a little. He tightened his legs around Apollo's waist to keep from sipping.

"Daddy, are you alright?" he asked softly. He was starting to feel bad a little in his tummy, like there was something wrong and no one had told him what it was yet.

Apollo turned and deposited Boxey on the counter-top behind them, rotating his shoulder a bit as he relieved it of his son's weight. He sighed a little and nodded.

"I'm good, Boxey," he lied and turned back to heating dinner.

The door chime sounded at that centon and Apollo helped Boxey off the counter so he could run to answer it. Apollo picked up a cup towel and began methodically cleaning the work surface, more to have something to do than because it needed cleaning. His heart sagged a little when he recognized Adama's baritone rumble. He really wasn't ready for a paternal visit this evening. Apollo steeled himself to greet his father.

Two steps brought Apollo into sight from the living area. Adama glanced up from his seat on the couch, Boxey happily bouncing on his knee. He stopped and looked harder at his son. He had visited Apollo as often as possible during his stay in Life Center, but after his outburst that first day Apollo had been cool with him, withdrawn. He was looking better physically, his features filling out to their normal contours, but he looked older, more careworn. The change pulled at Adama's heart.

Apollo leaned against the galley partition in an uncomfortable parody of his normal casual pose. He cleared his throat and said in a subdued tone, "Hello, Father. What brings you here?"

Adama smiled, trying to keep up the facade that both of them seemed to need desperately at the centon. He bounced Boxey once more. "Well, now... I just thought I'd drop by and visit with my favorite grandson, here."

Boxey giggled. "I'm your only grandson, Grandpa!"

"Well, then, that makes you my favorite, then, doesn't it?"

Apollo winced slightly. "That's going to create a problem when Athena finally settles down and starts producing a few," he warned, only half-jokingly. His own childhood had been played out in a minefield of competing siblings. Though he'd made a conscious effort to avoid the conflict with his sister over the last few yahrens, Apollo was painfully aware that to a large extent, he and Athena were still competing for their father's approval. He'd hoped Adama would have learned a thing or two over the yahrens.

Adama tickled his grandson, apparently oblivious to Apollo's vague disapproval of his grandparenting style. "We'll just deal with that when it comes, won't we, Boxey? Now, do you have any homework to finish? Why don't you run along and do that before dinner so your father and I can talk?"

"Yes, sir!" the boy said crisply and snapped off a creditable salute before running into his bedroom.

"Now, why won't he do that for me?" Apollo mused, staring incredulously after his son. "I have to fight him tooth and nail to get homework finished before morning, but you and Starbuck..."

He stopped as his throat constricted and covered it with a soft cough. His father gave him a sharp look.

"Starbuck's still on patrol, I imagine," Adama.

Apollo shrugged. "For another centar, yes. He's scheduled off-duty in three centars."

An alarm sounded from the galley. Apollo started and hurried back into the small kitchen in time to turn off the heating element under the saucepan and hit the reset button on the smoke alarm. The air recirculation program hummed on in response to the higher particle count. He prodded at the mass in the bottom of the pan with the spoon. The top was still mostly alright but the bottom and sides had scorched and adhered to the pan.

Adama moved up behind him and looked over his shoulder. Apollo stiffened.

"I think we can safely call that a lost cause, Apollo."

Like everything else in his life.

Apollo slammed the spoon down on the range top in sudden frustration.

"What was it you wanted to talk about, Father?" he said impatiently.

Adama cast Apollo a surprised glance. It was a rare moment when his son spoke to him so sharply.

"I need to speak to you, Apollo." He'd come here to clear the air between them, as Tigh had suggested, but he stopped and took in his son's face again, the fatigue and stress written plainly across it. Perhaps Tigh was right, that he knew the warrior better than Adama ever could, but Adama knew his son. Apollo might want the Commander, might prefer that layer between them -- very likely had needed it that first day back from Malea, when Adama couldn't have summoned the Commander through his own pain even if he had realized what Apollo had needed from him then, Adama thought regretfully -- but what he needed right now was his father. "But it can wait for now," he concluded.

Adama walked over to the telecom unit and dialled.

"Father, what are you doing?"

Adama glanced back at his son. "Ordering dinner for four," he said blandly.

Apollo stared at him blankly.

"Well, you don't expect to feed us all that, do you?" Adama said with a gesture towards the galley.

"Father--"

Adama gestured for silence and spoke quickly to the person on the other end of the telecom line.

********************

Starbuck shifted restlessly. He wasn't quite asleep nor quite awake, caught on the edge of a dream. Something kicked against him and he snapped to awareness. The knee came up again and caught him solidly in the crotch. He grunted and took a couple of deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

"Apollo."

His lover thrashed against him as Starbuck pulled him into his arms, each man fighting the dream in his own way.

"No! Don't!"

A free arm swung out and the elbow clipped Starbuck in the chin. Starbuck called up the lights to twenty percent and turned Apollo's face toward him. His lover's face was creased in a frown, twisted in a memory of pain and violence.

"Apollo!" Starbuck tightened his grip and shook Apollo gently. "It's alright, it's just a dream, love. It's just a dream."

"What--" The word came out as a breathy gasp. "Starbuck?"

Starbuck grinned slightly. "Yeah. You know, you fight dirtier asleep than you do awake. That

Virgan drill instructor must have been good for something besides your vocabulary."

"Fight? Oh, God, I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Apollo tried to pull away but Starbuck pulled the still too-thin frame back against him.

"Don't go. Just let me hold you, alright?" The longing welled up inside him. "Please."

Apollo rolled over and laid a gentle hand against Starbuck's cheek and for a micron, Starbuck wondered which of them was doing the comforting. Maybe both of them were. Maybe both of them should be.

Apollo's eyes were dark, his pupils dilated to adjust to the dim light. Starbuck smiled as he felt Apollo's fingers curl and stroke gently, recognizing the pattern from the sensate focus exercises that Cassie and Radha had allowed them to resume. He knew Apollo found the movements soothing and so did he, so Starbuck allowed his eyes to fall closed and just enjoyed the sensation.

Fingers carded through Starbuck's hair at his temples then moved to stroke along his chin and jaw. They slipped gently down onto the sensitive skin on his neck and Starbuck's lips opened slightly as his breathing quickened. He licked his lips briefly and was trying to fight his reactions back under control when he felt Apollo's mouth close over his, a light brush, then more firmly.

Starbuck returned the kiss tentatively and almost cheered when Apollo didn't pull back, but instead angled in to deepen the contact. Apollo's hand stroked his throat and Starbuck's lips fell open in invitation. The stroking hand moved to cradle the back of Starbuck's head as Apollo fell into his kiss. They parted slowly, Apollo pulling gently at Starbuck's lower lip as they did. He opened his eyes to find Apollo gazing at him, one hand still stroking his hair.

Apollo's lips quirked up. "Your turn," he whispered.

Starbuck felt the grin that formed slowly. Apollo had always been a bright boy.

"You sure?" he whispered.

Apollo took Starbuck's hand in his own and drew it to his lips to kiss the calloused fingers.

"Alright, then. Limits?"

"Let's see where we go," was the murmured reply.

Starbuck reached out and skimmed his hand across Apollo's brow, watching as his lover's eyes closed at his touch. He followed his hand with his lips, a gentle kiss, then another on the high forehead. He paused at Apollo's ear long enough to whisper a soft-voiced: "I love you."

Apollo opened his mouth to answer and Starbuck made it his opening. He kept his kiss as gentle as Apollo's had been, not wanting to rush his lover, all the while keeping up the soft, barely-there stroking with his fingertips against Apollo's skin. He pulled back and opened his eyes, resting his forehead against his lover's to watch his fingers brush Apollo's neck down to his collar bone, then gently follow the hard ridge. His thumb stroked more firmly over Apollo's pulse point and Starbuck paused there to feel the throbbing beat. Apollo made a small sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and Starbuck angled his face against Apollo's to feather kisses along the sharp jaw, following the path his fingers had taken. Apollo's throat moved as he swallowed and Starbuck turned his attention to the hard Adam's apple, laving along it with his tongue and then beneath to the hollow at the base of Apollo's throat. Apollo's neck arched into the sensation as his breathing turned to breathy gasps.

Starbuck slowly withdrew and returned to kiss Apollo's parted lips again, then pulled reluctantly away and waited for Apollo's eyes to open. He grinned into dazed green eyes.

"Tag," he whispered. "You're it."

***************************


	8. Chapter 8

Life or Death Was All, Chapter 8

Sire Gellar started from his light doze, not certain what had roused him. There it was: a small sound, a barely audible scratching. He rose from his thickly upholstered chair. A clatter made him start again. He'd forgotten the data pad he'd been reading was still in his lap.

A wave of relief swept over him as the adrenalin subsided. He bent to retrieve the data pad, forgetting for a micron that it wasn't the sound of it's fall that had frightened him in the first place.

"Hello, Uncle."

Gellar snapped back to standing, twisting as he did. Toban's hand shot out of the dark to push against the elderly councillor's chest and Gellar fell back into his chair with a startled wheeze.

"What are you doing here, boy?" he snapped. He reached up to straighten his cravat, hoping the movement would cover his sudden nervousness.

"I'm here to visit my elderly relation," Toban said. He leaned against the edge of the desk not a metron away from Gellar. "Here. Let me get that for you."

With a flick of his wrist, he tightened the cravat viciously. He released the ends of the neck piece and grinned as Gellar coughed and pulled to release it.

"Are you insane?!"

Toban walked around the end of the desk and Gellar relaxed as the move put the bulk of the furniture between the two of them. The younger man leaned down to Gellar's eye level and braced his hands against the top of the desk.

"Now, why would you ask such a thing, Uncle?"

Gellar blinked at him as he came into the light from the desk lamp. "What have you done to your face and nose?"

Toban chuckled and peeled the prosthetic clay that had created a more aquiline profile from his face. "This? Just a little something from an old stage-actor's kit. I sometimes find it useful when, say, I have to elude a man-hunt."

"Yes." Gellar allowed himself a bit of smug satisfaction at his sister's son's situation. "You've been far too clever for your own good, my boy. I had a meeting with the Security Committee tonight regarding you. Sire Loran is quite certain his Investigative Division will track you down like a daggit in very short order."

"You'd better hope not, Uncle."

"What uncle? I never had a sister, Toban. Our father's Writ of Exclusion saw to it when she deserted the family. She was completely expunged from our history over forty yahrens ago; as far as anyone is concerned, she never existed. You have no legal claim to any relationship to me, regardless of what genes you might have collected from your fallen drunk of a mother." He leaned back in his chair and waved a hand dismissively. "Go search the databanks and see if you can find some member of your father's family to help you. Did she ever remember who he was?"

Toban surged forward and caught Gellar by his lapels. He pulled him forward so that the edge of the desk cut into the old man's belly.

"Listen to me, you old daggit. You'd better get that committee of yours on the comm and get them to call this search off. You do not want me to be found."

Gellar jerked back and smiled slowly when the larger man released him. He stood straight and tugged his jacket back into shape.

"And why would I care one way or another, my boy?" he asked pleasantly. "No one has been privy to our meetings. I've never spoken of you to anyone in all the yahrens of our... association. Anything you say will be your word against mine -- the word of a thief and terminator against a member of the Quorum of the Twelve? They'll laugh you all the way to the grid barge."

Toban grinned wolfishly.

"You'll be right beside me when they do, Uncle Gellar. I'm a businessman. Businessmen keep records. Mine go back yahrens - practically elephantine in their recall. Dates, times, places, names... recordings of key conversations."

He smiled more broadly as the smirk fell away from Gellar's thin face.

"If I go down, Uncle, so do you."

********************

Apollo was in an unusually good mood for one of their sessions. Radha cocked her head unconsciously as she studied him.

"So, how does it feel to be out of Life Center?"

"Good. Better than good," he said, favoring her with a lopsided grin that took yahrens off of his face.

"Really? I know you were worried when we last spoke."

"Yes, I was and, yes, some of it... Some of yesterday was... uncomfortable. But mostly it was good." He ducked his head slightly and glanced at her. "And last night was better."

"Oh?" The flush that rose to his ears made her smile. "Do you want to talk about that?"

"I had another nightmare and Starbuck woke me... and, um, well," he broke off with a nervous laugh. "I'm still not comfortable talking about this stuff."

"You don't have to."

"No, it's alright. I started touching him, the way I do in those exercises of Cassie's and..." he grinned again. "The cliche is 'one thing led to another,' isn't it?"

Radha nodded. "Were you able to..."

"No, we didn't go any further than we have with the exercises. I'm still not comfortable with anyone touching my back or, um, genitals. But it was nice." The last came out in a wistful tone and he laughed again. It had been more than nice. "When I describe it, it's not that much, but..."

"It's a victory for you," Radha said.

"Yes. Yes, it is." He smiled for a centon, lost in thought. His expression shifted. "Father visited last night."

"Did he?"

Apollo nodded.

"What did the commander have to say?" She tilted her head to get a clearer view of his face.

"I'm not sure. I, um, I was tired, kind of irritable. I snapped at him," he said with a rueful look. "He never did bring up what he wanted to discuss."

"Alright," she said, not certain where Apollo wanted to take this. Something about Adama's visit was obviously bothering him.

He sighed heavily and gave an almost-chuckle. "I burned dinner."

"And?"

"And... he handled it, like he always does," Apollo said, mouth set.

"You didn't care for that," she acknowledged.

"No. I didn't, but..." He ran a hand through his hair and pushed it off his forehead. "I didn't feel like..."

Radha waited while he hesitated.

"How didn't you feel, Apollo?"

"Like I had any business complaining," he answered. He laughed suddenly. "You should have seen Starbuck's face when he came in the door."

"Oh?"

"He was on an extended patrol, so he didn't know I'd been released until he got back to the Galactica. He came flying through the door like a torpedo and who was sitting at his dining table, correcting Boxey's table settings?"

Radha grinned at the image.

"There's nothing quite like inconvenient in-laws, is there?" she said. She let him enjoy the memory for a micron before drawing him back on track. "How do you feel when your father handles things for you? Like the burnt dinner."

Apollo sobered. "I don't like it. It's like I loose a score of yahrens whenever he walks into a room. I'm not a child but he treats me like one."

"It's sometimes difficult for parents to look at their children and see an adult. A child grows up and is no longer a child, but a parent is always a parent. As you said, though, you aren't a child. You're an accomplished adult with a child of your own. Why would you feel like you shouldn't complain when your father treats you otherwise?"

He shook his head dumbly.

"Did he treat you like a child before you were raped?"

He scratched at an eyebrow. "To a certain extent, it's always been there -- never in our professional life, he never crossed that boundary and I do understand about parents still being parents after their kids are grown, so I... tolerated it in our personal life, but... it seems... _more_, now."

"It seems like he treats you more like a child than before?"

"No, not really. Just... it seems more _meaningful_ now, especially since I've been on medical leave. I don't have a professional life anymore; all there is, is the personal."

"So, what was once tolerable, is less so from your new perspective," Radha said.

"Much less so," he said emphatically.

"Was there ever a time in the past when you weren't able to tolerate his behavior?"

Apollo grinned mirthlessly. "Oh, yes. We've had some... intense family discussions on the matter from time to time."

Another polite euphemism to describe an event involving strong emotion, she noted. It was an ingrained response, separating him from the emotional content of the memory.

"That leads me back to the question of why you wouldn't feel entitled to call him on it, now."

"I've disappointed him," he blurted out.

"Has he told you that?"

"Not in so many words, no."

"Apollo, I spoke to your father briefly when you were hospitalized. He was understandably concerned and needed some reassurance. He didn't strike me as being disappointed in you. Worried, yes, but not disappointed."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's there, trust me. I know his moods," he said sharply. "He's keeping it hidden, but it's there."

"Alright. As you say, you know him best. Parents are often somewhat disappointed in their children, but intensely proud of them at one and the same time. It's in the contradictory nature of humans. We want our children to go their own way, so long as it's along the path we've laid out. So, what's the worst thing that can happen if he's disappointed in you? Is it really the end of the universe?"

He swung to his feet to pace off his rising anxiety.

"I don't like it. And before you say it, yes, I know there are a lot of things I don't like and the universe won't come crashing in around me because of them, but... this isn't just a vague disappointment that I'm not living my life the way he would. This time, there's a specific cause and that's important to me."

"How do you think you've disappointed your father, Apollo?"

"This whole thing. Everything. Malea, the-the falsified report, the way I am now... I wasn't strong enough. I lost control of the situation."

"When you say you weren't strong enough, do you mean emotionally or physically?"

"Both. Either."

Radha watched him for a micron, then scrolled her notes back to near the beginning. It was time to push this one.

"When you returned from Malea, one of the first things you did in an official capacity was revamp your pilot's physical training program."

"Yes."

"Why did you do that, Apollo?"

"It needed to be done."

"Why?" He shook his head and she repeated the question: "Why did it need to be done, Apollo?"

He stopped his pacing, spun around and threw out a hand. "Because -- you didn't hear us, huffing and puffing back to the shuttle. We weren't in shape for that mission."

"All of you? Or just you?"

His eyes were wide, stricken. He looked away.

"_I _wasn't in shape for that mission."

"You were a healthy young male in prime physical condition. How could you say you weren't in shape?"

"I couldn't..." He stopped and turned, one finger raised.

More distancing, she thought, recognizing the gesture.

"You're right. I was in good physical condition. I had the best combat training the Colonies had to offer. I was strong. It should have been enough. It wasn't."

"'Should' is a dangerous word, Apollo," Radha commented softly. "We've talked about it in the past."

"Sometimes it's the right word." He held her gaze for a long centon, then glanced over his shoulder to the chronometer on the wall. "Our time's up."

"Apollo, I'd like to continue--"

"Not now," he said abruptly. "Our time's up."

Radha looked at him. If it weren't for the tell-tale trembling in the thinned-down lips, his face might have been carved from stone.

"Very well. We'll continue next session."

He nodded vaguely then licked his lips. "I want to space the sessions out more."

"We talked about moving to once a secton as soon as you were comfortable with your meds," Radha agreed carefully.

He scratched at that eyebrow again. "I was thinking two."

He was in retreat.

"I'd advise against that at the centon. I don't think it's wise, Apollo. "

"Right."

"I'm willing to give it a secton between sessions, since you seem to be having more success working with your symptoms."

He nodded without looking at her. "In a secton, then."

***********************

Grasslands stretched out on the scanner for kilometrons, a green and gold blur in the patrol Viper's transmitted image. The image changed abruptly.

"Frak me," Apollo breathed.

Next to him, Adama shot his son a pained look but otherwise ignored the unaccustomed profanity.

The herd was huge. It covered the grassland for at least a kilometron, thousands of bodies all moving as a single entity.

"How big are they? It's impossible to gauge from the image," Apollo asked with a glance over his shoulder at the bovine expert who'd been sent from the livestock ship.

"According to the scanner read-out, they are _on average_ at least two and a half times the size of any breed of domesticated bovine we have. Those daggit-frakers are massive," the balding older man said admiringly. He glanced at Adama. "Begging the commander's pardon."

Adama sighed. "How much meat can we expect to get from them, Joram?"

"Very little, I'm afraid," the man answered regretfully.

Apollo spun back to him. "What? Why?"

"Our hunting teams won't be able to get within a kilometron of them. The herding instinct exists for a reason, Captain, for protection. The same characteristic that made early forms of bovines comparatively easy to domesticate makes monsters like these beauties frakin' hard to hunt. We can give it a shot, but I can already tell you it won't be successful. We might be able to pick off one or two of the young or weak, but it won't be worth the effort we'll expend doing it." He glanced back at the commander.

"Even if the hunting teams did get close enough to do some damage, sir, large ungulates like these can be very dangerous in close quarters. When the shooting starts, they're more likely to run _towards_ you than away and once the herd starts moving they can overtake a hunter's position in centons. It won't much matter what kind of weapon they're carrying with that many hooves to be trampled under. Maybe from the Vipers?"

It was Tigh who answered. "Not a good idea. The laser cannons would simply incinerate anything they hit and there's an excellent chance they would inadvertently set fire to the grasslands. Our collection teams would be in serious trouble."

Joram nodded. "I thought as much. Sorry, sirs. They're beautiful animals but we're going to have to stick with smaller game. We just aren't equipped for that kind of hunt."

Apollo allowed the rest of Joram's report on the activities of the hunting and fishing teams to fade into background noise as he watched the densely packed black and brown bodies of the herd beasts beat silently over the far-distant plain. When the image ended with the Viper pulling up and into the planet's upper atmosphere, he stopped it and returned to the beginning to watch it again.

_Once the herd starts moving..._

Something teased at the back of his mind, something half remembered. He couldn't quite pull it out.

Adama looked over at his son. The recorded image of the far-distant grassland was playing again, the reflected light casting an unflattering yellowish glow over Apollo's skin. He was so fully absorbed in the replay that he didn't even notice when Tigh and Joram rounded out their reports.

Joram shot a questioning glance at the commander when Apollo didn't acknowledge his farewell. Though he wasn't one to listen to gossip, he'd heard rumors about the young man's health. The look Adama gave him was blank and cold. None of his business, then. He nodded to them both and left.

Adama waited for the door to close behind Tigh and Joram before crossing the room to pour two glasses of ambrosa from the decanter on his desk. He sat down across from his son and slid Apollo's glass forward until it nudged his hand. Apollo glanced down at it and grimaced.

"I can't," he said shortly and pushed the glass away.

"Apollo--"

"It doesn't mix well with the loridinal, Father."

Adama stared at the untouched glass, nonplussed. "I'm sorry. I didn't think."

Apollo gave a quick shrug and turned his attention back to the undulating herd. Adama watched him for a few centons more before rising to take the ambrosa out of temptation's way.

"Thank you."

Apollo's quiet words caught Adama by surprise.

"For what, son?"

Apollo nodded his dark head toward the scanner display. "For having me here, letting me see this. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to hear your opinion," Adama said.

The sudden and honest shock in Apollo's eyes when he glanced up at Adama stabbed at him. Apollo looked away again.

"Apollo, I have always valued your opinions," he said. "Nothing has changed that."

Apollo nodded brusquely, face averted. He reached out and set the scanner to replay the recording.

Adama stifled a sigh and walked over to stand behind Apollo. "They are magnificent beasts," he said as the herd swarmed back into view.

"We can get them," Apollo said softly.

"Joram--" Adama caught himself. "How?"

"Not using our normal means." Apollo nodded to himself as the memory he was searching for finally surfaced. "I need to think about this, Father. Have the patrols finished the topo-scans of this area? I'll need to study them for a while."

"Yes. I can have the data sent to your--" he stopped himself just short of saying _office. _"Your personal unit. What are you looking for?"

Apollo flashed a grin over his shoulder, looking so much like his old self that Adama's heart constricted for a micron. "I'll know when I see it. I'll want to bounce the idea off of Joram, too."

"I'll summon him when you're ready." Adama laid an approving hand on Apollo's shoulder.

Apollo felt himself stiffen and fought down the reaction. Gingerly, he shifted his shoulder out from under his father's hand.

"Father, we need to talk," he said firmly.

Apollo's heart was tripping like a Cylon scanner, even with the loridinal he'd taken a half-centar before the briefing. Why was he so nervous?

Adama sat heavily. "Yes, we do. Apollo--"

"I don't like to be touched like that," Apollo interrupted abruptly. He swallowed back a hint of nausea.

Adama looked up sharply and opened his mouth to speak.

"No, please, Father. This isn't easy for me, so, just hear me out."

"Alright," Adama said.

He just needed to say it, to set the boundary, he told himself. He didn't need to explain himself too much, just let him know. Simple and direct was best. Apollo took a deep breath and looked up to meet his father's eyes.

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't touch my back or shoulders. It makes me very uncomfortable," he said simply.

"Oh. I see," Adama said. It was a lie. He didn't see. He felt his back muscles stiffen defensively and willed himself to relax. "Is this something recent..."

"Since Malea," Apollo said stiffly, softly.

"Oh." Adama's stomach clenched just a bit. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

Apollo shrugged. "I didn't tell you. I kept telling myself that it shouldn't bother me, that I shouldn't expect or... need other people to change the way they behaved just because..." He stopped and cleared his throat. "But it does and I do," he finished simply.

The honest vulnerability in that simple admission was a bit more than Adama had expected or felt comfortable hearing and he felt himself pull away from it. His voice was cool even to his own ears when he spoke.

"Is there any way I am to be allowed to touch you?"

Apollo flinched as if struck and Adama cursed himself.

"I'm sorry, son, I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

Apollo pushed himself away from the table and rose from his chair.

Adama shot out a hand and caught his son's arm. Apollo stared at him.

"I'm sorry," Adama repeated. He slid his hand down to Apollo's hand and gripped it tightly. "Please stay. Talk with me. This conversation... isn't easy for me, either."

Apollo nodded slowly and sat back down.

"What I said... it didn't come out the way I intended, son. It wasn't meant to be hurtful. But I do need to know..." He hesitated and took Apollo's hand once more. After a micron, Apollo's fingers tightened around his own. "I need to know what is acceptable as well as what isn't."

Apollo nodded again, stiff with the same sense of vague embarrassment that hampered his father.

"This is fine," he said softly.

Adama's hand tightened as he fought himself for control. He looked toward the small portal as he blinked away the moisture from his eyes.

"When Iblis was with us," he said softly, and Apollo's hand jerked slightly in his grip. He looked back at his son and smiled softly at the slightly bewildered expression. "He said something to me, the only true words he spoke in that entire time. I don't tell you often enough, Apollo, but I love you, son. Your life truly is more dear to me than my own. If I could undo any of this--"

"Father!"

Apollo's voice was a pained gasp. Adama's arms ached to pull him close. Instead he sat clutching to his son's hand as the tears fell.

*******************

"It seems such a drastic measure, Sire," Siress Nona said sadly. Her almond eyes crinkled in sympathy. "Each of us on this committee has read the summary of the Captain's final report. I know my own heart is heavier for it."

"Yes, yes, I agree, my dear Nona," Gellar sighed deeply. "But if the boy is truly... damaged by his experiences, is it not more cruel to allow him to think the Fleet could demand even more from him than it already has?"

Nona was wavering visibly. Apollo was a fine warrior. There was a striking intelligence behind that quiet demeanor. She had expected great things from him -- still did. On a personal level, though, she had always liked Apollo and knowing now the source of the rumors about him... it grieved her.

Beside Gellar, Domra nodded his agreement. "I agree. I have nothing against Apollo. He has acquitted himself with great gallantry in these two yahrens of our Flight--"

"He did, after all, save all of our lives not that long ago," Tinia reminded them all crispy.

Gellar barely restrained himself from glaring at her. "Yes, he did," he said with grave dignity. "And now, it is our time to repay him, to help him in his centar of need as he always has in ours."

"Perhaps," Anton spoke in that gently persuasive tone. "We could start by allowing him a bit of time -- that _sabbatical_ that you suggested before, I believe, Sire?"

"I--" Gellar froze.

"Yes!" Nona said quickly, seizing upon a suggestion that offered to fulfill her own conflicted sense of duty nicely. "What a wonderful idea, Gellar! So kind of you to think of it. We can ask Adama to hold the Strike Captain's position open for the length of a short sabbatical, can we not? A few sectars, perhaps?"

"A few more sectars, you mean?" Domra asked with a frown.

"A wonderful solution to our little dilemma," Anton affirmed cheerfully and sipped delicately from his water goblet. "All in favor?"

Tinia and Nona nodded their approval gracefully.

"I think we can assume Sire Gellar approves of his own motion," Anton said smoothly as Gellar gaped. "The motion is carried. We suggest to the Council that there be no change to the Galactica's current command arrangement and encourage the Council's full support of Captain Apollo during this trying time and our sincerest hopes for his quick recovery."

Domra glanced around at his fellow committee members, coming to rest with Gellar. He was an old wagerer in this game. He knew a losing hand when he saw one. "Yes. Yes, of course."

Anton nodded gracefully. "Then, the committee is adjourned."

*******************

Sometimes, Gellar sincerely wished for an old-fashioned terrestrial-style door to slam. He settled for throwing the first breakable trinket that came to hand.

"Things not going according to plan, Uncle?" Toban's voice was thick with sly amusement.

Gellar glared at him. "Shut up."

He stalked across the room and snatched up the ambrosa decanter. The red liquor gurgled softly as it flowed into a goblet. Gellar tossed most of it down in a single draught.

Toban's voice hardened. "What about the Security Committee?"

Gellar coughed slightly. Three days of sharing his quarters with his sister's abominable offspring was starting to wear on him.

"I can't do anything about the Security Committee," he growled. "It's not just the termination, boy! It's your own work that's brought this attention to bear on you! You were sloppy!"

"It was your contract I was filling, if you'll recall, Uncle," Toban said calmly.

"There's nothing I can do about that. Damn it, boy! We aren't in the Colonies anymore! There is no Pineus or Orion where you can wait out the furor like you did after that Felana girl. There's nothing for it," Gellar said and drained his goblet.

He watched as Toban turned away from him and paced. There really was nothing for it, he thought.

He could go directly to Adama, tell the story his own way. He'd stick close enough to the truth -- the best lies were always nine-tenths truth. He closed his eyes, composing the story in his head.

The boy had turned up after his mother's death, hoping to re-instate himself with the family. He'd been only sixteen at the time. Gellar's father had refused him. That much was true.

Gellar had been fond of Korah -- that was also true, after a fashion. She had been so much younger than him, he hadn't really had much to do with her, but he remembered her fondly as a sweet-faced dreamy girl.

Of course, she'd chucked that away to run off with that Aerian merchant pilot... He could work that into the story as well: pretty girl from a good family seduced by a blackguard then deserted when he found out he wasn't going to get what he wanted from her relations. Yes, that would play well with Adama. He would believe that Gellar would grieve for her, feel sorry for her child, would pass him funds from time to time to make up for the family's dismissal... Of course, he had had no idea what he boy was capable of doing...

He opened his eyes and was startled to find Toban standing so close. He hadn't known the man could move so silently. He frowned. There was something about the blank expression, the flatness of his eyes... Gellar took a reflexive step back.

"I believe you're right, Uncle," Toban said with terrible calm. "There really is nothing for it."

The blow that knocked Gellar to the floor came almost as a surprise; the hands around his neck were shockingly strong. He surged up against Toban's weight.

Toban frowned as Gellar writhed against his grip. There was surprising strength in the old man's desperate struggle. He released his grip with one hand, using the other to pin his uncle's shoulder to the ground.

"Get off of me, you--" The rest was drowned in a pained grunt as Toban's knuckles crushed Gellar's windpipe with a quick thrusting punch.

The black pressure behind his eyes receded and Toban relaxed as he sank back into Gellar's comfortable chair to watch his uncle choke out the remaining centons of his life. He refilled Gellar's goblet and watched curiously as the old man's body convulsed at his feet. An acrid smell filled the air as Gellar's system voided its contents for the last time. He'd never watched the life go out of someone from this distance before. Interesting.

The body fell still and the last of the gurgling noises faded into oblivion. Toban leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. He smiled reminiscently as he remembered his mother's death. Hers had been fast, as he recalled, but then he'd been only a boy, barely fifteen yahrens when he'd choked life out of her and watched her shocked blue eyes go empty. He'd taken more time with the others, refined his technique over these last seventeen yahrens.

Uncle Gellar's death had been different from the others; he'd never used the crushing technique before, although he'd researched it thoroughly. It didn't have the... intimacy of manual strangulation, he considered. There wasn't the option of prolonging the moment, taking a body to the brink, allowing the life to return to its eyes only to watch it fade again and again and again before that final climax that left his blood singing for sectons afterward. It had been satisfying, though, he decided -- a nice variation, all in all.

He raised the goblet to his lips and took a delicate sip.

*****************

Well, this was certainly turning out to be more engaging than grading history essays for her Educational Center classes, Beruna thought.

"What you're refering to is a cliff jump, Captain. Herds of wild bovines would be slowly maneuvered over several days or even sectons to within a few kilometrons of a cliff or gorge, then stampeded. The First Colonists would sometimes build guide lines of stone or brush to force the herd in the direction they wanted them to run. Other times, they used natural formations like small bluffs to turn the herds.

"By the time the lead animal saw the danger, there was no way to stop the rest of the herd and the sheer weight and force of the animals' momentum would carry much of it over. Anywhere from a handful to several hundred animals could be killed at one time, with little risk or effort on the part of the hunters."

Apollo nodded, his excitement growing. "Exactly. That's exactly what I was thinking about. There was a site near Caprica City. I went there on a class trip when I was a boy."

"I know the one. Broken Bova," Beruna nodded. "That site saw several uses over about a millenium, I believe. Abrun unearthed over two hundred wild bovine skeletons, some of them still intact. He'd only excavated about a third of the entire site."

"Why would any still be intact?" Apollo asked.

"There's no way to judge how many animals are going to go over the edge, Apollo. Sometimes there was just too much meat to handle at one time. They took what they could use and left the rest."

Apollo nodded his satisfaction. "We won't be leaving anything. According to Joram, there's not a single part of those animals we can't use in some way."

"Unless we can't store them, Captain," Joram interjected.

"I thought of that. We can transport them in cargo shuttles and flash freeze them in the upper atmosphere. Then we bundle them together, tether them to the outside of the livestock ship and let space do the preserving for us. Once the cargo shuttles have dropped off their load, they can go back for more."

Beruna nodded slowly. "Space is our current environment, as harsh as any our ancestors faced. Like them, we can learn to make it work for us."

On the other side of the briefing table, Joram grunted. "I never even thought of that," he admitted. "You know, we keep a lot of the vegetable protein we use in freeze-dried form. There's absolutely no reason for it to be taking up space in our holds. We could bundle it up in impact-resistant radion canisters and strap it to the exterior hull, pull it in when we need it."

"Have you identified a likely site for your bovine jump, Apollo?" Adama asked.

"A couple of them," he confirmed. He called up a three-dimensional image of the wide plain. "But there's one I like best."

"What are the brown masses?" Tigh asked with a frown.

Apollo flashed him a grin. "Individual herds. I asked Boomer to set the patrol Vipers' scanners to track them." Tigh gave him a sharp glance and he stopped abruptly, some of his enthusiasm fading. "I... should have cleared that with you first. My apologies, Colonel."

Tigh shook his head. "If your squadron second can't remember that you're on stand-down, why should you?" he asked dryly.

_Ouch._ Apollo hesitated.

"Continue, Captain," Adama said easily.

"Yes. Anyway, if you'll look in Quadrant Alpha, zone C12..." He enlarged the section.

"Looks like the edge of a fault line," Beruna commented.

"That's exactly what it is. It's a twenty-six metron drop. The grassland continues on the other side. The cliff's almost completely invisible from ground level and look at that rock fall at the base," Apollo pointed.

"And that small ridge running almost perpendicular to the edge. If you bring them in at an angle from the east..."

"The ridge will force them to turn at the last centon and they'll go sailing right over," Apollo finished.

"And we'll be waiting at the bottom to pick them up," Joram said. He turned to Adama. "It could work, Commander."

"Not very sporting, Captain," Tigh commented.

"Maybe not, but it's efficient."

"You'll need hunters at the bottom of the cliff," Beruna cautioned. "Not all of the animals will be killed by the fall. Some will be injured; they'll be panicked and dangerous."

"Once we pick our herd and know how many animals we're dealing with, we can calculate the drop zone and set up a perimeter at the base wide enough to keep the hunters out of harm's way, but close enough to pick off the survivors," Apollo said.

"How do you propose to herd them to the jump area?" Adama asked.

"The hunting teams," Joram suggested. "They don't have to get close enough to shoot, just to be seen. They can stay on the edges and keep them slowly moving in the direction we need them to go."

"Once they're within a kilometron of the jump, we buzz them with Vipers," Apollo added. "Three: two on the flanks of the herd, one down the middle. They come in low and stay there almost to the edge."

"That'll get the beasts moving, alright," Joram said. "It'll take a few days to get pick our herd and get them moving in the right direction. We don't want to spook them too soon."

Adama nodded, satisfied that as many variables as possible had been covered. Other issues would arise, but those would be addressed as the plan was fleshed out further. "Very well. Brief the teams and pick your herd, gentlemen."

Apollo let out a breath and nodded. This was right. This was good.

"It's amazing."

"What's that, Dr. Beruna?" Tigh asked.

She smiled lightly. "More than six thousand yahrens of social and technological development since Kobol and we've come full circle, Colonel. We're right back to nomadic hunting and gathering. Nothing's changed but location and toolkit. It's food for thought." Beruna turned to Apollo and gave him a feral grin. "Any chance of a grey-haired former archaeologist sneaking aboard your shuttle, Captain? I wouldn't miss this for anything."

Apollo laughed outright. "I'll see what I can do," he said.

Tigh shot Adama a glance.

"Thank you for your help, Beruna, Joram. You will be notified about the briefing arrangements soon." Adama said gravely. "Apollo, a word?"

Apollo stayed seated as the others filed out of the room. Lords, how Adama hated to be the one to have to dampen that enthusiasm. It had been too long since he'd seen this energy in his son.

"Father?"

It was best to get it over with cleanly.

"You can't go with them, Apollo."

"What? No. Father, this is my idea. You can't just--"

"You're restricted from active duty, Apollo. You're already doing far more than you're supposed to."

"Then treat me like a civilian," Apollo demanded. "There are already more civilians down there than warriors--"

"You know why I can't. At this time, even if you were a civilian expert, you wouldn't be able to go, not with the medications you're currently taking. I'm sorry, Apollo. You're going to have to brief Boomer and Starbuck and let them handle it."

The communication center beeped.

"I'm sorry, Apollo," Adama said once more as he reached for the controls.

_Commander, Council Security is requesting admittance._

"Very well, Erae. Send them in." Adama looked back at Apollo. "Son--"

Apollo shook his head sharply and shouldered out past Kyril.

Adama sighed. "My apologies, Investigator. You have something to report?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Sire Gellar of Aquaria has been found dead."

***********************

"I can't believe he just took it right out of your hands," Starbuck fumed.

Apollo sighed. "I can. He's right, Starbuck. I'm not fit for it, not right now."

"Like Hades, you're not fit!"

Apollo bowed his head and let Starbuck's fit of temper wash around him.

Boomer caught Starbuck's arm and nodded towards Apollo when Starbuck rounded on him.

"You're not helping, Buddy."

Starbuck shrugged. "I'm sorry, Apollo. I just got a little..."

Apollo smiled ironically.

"Everyone's sorry," he muttered, then shook it off. "Look, Starbuck, Boomer -- I got a little carried away myself, alright? But, the commander's right. I may be fine right now, but... the medication I take can affect my reactions, my reflexes. I can't be on the team while I'm under a chemical influence and that's all there is to it. I'm going to have to sit this one out, so let's get down to business."

***************************


End file.
